


His Veela Heritage

by RiverWriter



Series: His Veela Heritage [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family, Fantasy, Gen, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Veela, secret romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-01-22 08:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 91,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12477388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverWriter/pseuds/RiverWriter
Summary: His entire world shifted and he was suddenly certain that his life was no longer really his own, it belonged to her. He could only hope she'd forgive him, could only hope she'd accept him. Because he was a veela and Hermione Granger was his mate. The only woman who had any chance of truly making him happy was the same girl he'd spent half a lifetime tormenting. Karma was a bitch.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

  
Draco had always known it was possible, at least theoretically. His mother had told him the old family stories when she tucked him in at night just as often as she’d read to him from Beedle the Bard or one of his many other storybooks. Tales of his veela ancestors who were mighty warriors, who always found their true love, and used their extraordinary abilities to protect their love and their family. They lived long fulfilling lives with lots of children in perfect harmony with their other half, their mate; there was always a happily ever after. To hear his mother tell it being a veela was the secret to life. Which is probably why his mother’s stories had always felt more like make believe than reality, reality isn't that perfect, he'd known that even as a little boy. And so, it never truly occurred to him that one day those bedtime stories could become his reality. He came of age in the middle of a war, the very idea that he could ultimately be destined to lead the perfect life described in his mother’s veela stories was laughable.

  
So, when things began happening that set him apart from his peers, things that marked him as something potentially other, he was too wrapped up in just surviving to notice. Not to mention that his mother’s stories were all focused on the romance of being a veela and ignored the practicalities. He wouldn't have known what to look for, had he even been looking.

  
For instance, he had no idea that he ate a lot more than your average teenaged boy. All his meals were provided by house elves and they certainly weren't going to say anything about it. And while he was always acutely aware of his surroundings like any good Malfoy/Slytherin, that didn’t extend to how much food his classmates were consuming, which he would have considered to be useless information. Even when things were at their worst, when one misstep could have gotten him and his whole family killed and he had no appetite to speak of, he ate almost constantly. He needed food like he needed air, it was just survival to his mind, he thought nothing of it. It certainly never occurred to him that his body was preparing itself, growing stronger so that it could one day be able to transform at will.

  
He had a big enough ego that when witches basically began throwing themselves at him and continued to do so even after he’d let a pack of psychopaths into his boarding school and attempted to murder its headmaster, he just chalked it up to being a good catch. His father had had his pick of witches in his day, after all, and had ended up married to the great beauty of their generation. It was only natural that the good looking Malfoy heir would attract all manner of would-be brides. He didn't consider that he could be developing some kind of otherworldly allure.

  
The lack of libido would have been concerning though, under normal circumstances, but he’d been barely 16 when he’d received the Dark Mark and couldn’t risk exposing it for a quick romp in an empty classroom. By the time his status as a Death Eater was known he had hit rock bottom and simply wasn’t interested, or so he told himself. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in girls, he’d just never met one who could hold that interest beyond a snog or two.

  
It was only when the war was over and he’d escaped without being killed, seriously maimed, or even sent to Azkaban, and he still felt that same way that he began to wonder. Due to a combination of his looks, his wealth, and his family name (the Malfoy reputation hadn’t taken such a hit in France where he’d fled to his cousin’s home after the war) he still had all manner of gorgeous witches throwing themselves at him, but he never seriously considered taking one up on her offer. The very idea just felt wrong.

  
And that was when he began to hear a niggling voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like his mother. Because one of the things everybody knew about veela was that they were highly sexual beings, which was true, but she'd been sure to impress upon him that that didn’t make them promiscuous. No, their allure and their sexual nature was all for the pleasure and protection of their mate and no other. He finally began to suspect that maybe he was veela, and since he was still short of his twentieth birthday that he had no way of finding his mate yet, but he was still programmed to reject all others, if only subconsciously.

  
He returned home from France after nearly a year away; once he was certain he could be in England and, more importantly, around his parents without letting his shame and his resentment show openly in a very un-Slytherin like manner. His father was displeased by what the older wizard insisted on labeling as Draco’s ‘disappearing act’- despite the fact that both of his parents had been fully aware of his whereabouts the entire time he’d been gone- and Lucius made no attempt to hide his opinion. Draco was past caring and simply found himself distracted by the fact that he was suddenly both taller and broader than his father, and Lucius was not a small man. He did I know that veela were larger than most humans, and so his suspicions grew.

  
But it wasn’t until tonight- exactly two weeks after the 20th anniversary of his birth- that he’d been sure. He had been attending an event which was doubling as a fundraiser and celebration of the summer solstice as a representative of the Malfoy family; all part of his campaign to bring the name back to respectability in Britain. Very soon after the cocktail hour began he spotted her: Hermione Granger, the girl who was inexplicably kind to him despite how abominably he and his family had treated her. She was good for not just a civil, but an actually stimulating conversation. She also couldn’t have given a damn about his money, and she certainly wasn't impressed (or-even more unbelievably in her case- repulsed) by his name. She was exactly the kind of refreshing company he wanted. He looked around and was pleased to note that neither of her irritating and overly-protective sidekicks were in sight. Actually, she was doing that thing that he’d noticed she did, trying to fade into the background- like that was possible- to avoid the attention any member of the so-called Golden Trio drew when they were in public.

  
He made his way over to her. In the 14 months since he’d returned from France he’d noticed that she always felt like a bright spot at these ridiculous events and once he’d gotten up the courage to actually speak to her (which he accomplished by sneaking up on her, scaring her, and laughing at her jumpiness; he hadn't had a personality transplant, after all) she’d proved him right. She was an intriguing conversationalist and her very presence made otherwise interminable events tolerable.

  
It was like she sensed his presence, because she looked up and gave him a tentative but welcoming smile almost before he had even begun to cross the room to make his way towards her. It was ridiculous, really, because he’d only ever had a handful of conversations with her or, at least, a handful of conversations since he’d stopped thinking of her as a lesser being and started treating her as a human being. Regardless, he was extremely pleased to see her.

  
She’d turned away by the time he reached her, her attention on some wizard who had apparently commandeered it, ostensibly asking about her work at the ministry, though Draco was dubious about his true motives. From her posture he knew that Hermione was as well. She was constantly approached by those who hoped to capitalize on her status as a heroine. Until now Draco hadn't even noticed how much that, uncharacteristically, bothered him. He usually didn't worry himself over the affairs of others.

  
He resisted the urge to growl at the offending man, but was too preoccupied to be concerned about that peculiar reaction. He was focused on Hermione. But then he touched her elbow to get her attention and something happened that he was simply incapable of ignoring: his entire world shifted. He froze in place until she turned to face him with an inviting smile on her face.

  
“Malfoy,” she breathed, meeting his eyes with a smile.

  
She sounded relieved, Merlin, she sounded happy to see him! That in itself was amazing, but it wasn’t what changed everything. He’d felt a shock when he’d touched her, a wonderful shock, and then their eyes met. His entire world shifted and he just knew that his life was no longer really his own, it belonged to her. He knew what would happen next so he spit out a myriad of nonsensical excuses and then fled the room before he literally sprouted wings. He could only hope she’d forgive him, could only hope she'd accept him.

  
As a child, even a young adolescent, he’d been so smug about his place in society, about his station as a Malfoy. He was no longer that stubborn, ignorant boy. Now he was a desperate man, because he was veela and Hermione Granger was his mate; the only woman who had any chance of truly making him happy was the same girl he'd spent half a lifetime tormenting. He'd known his mother’s stories were too good to be true, karma was a bitch.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

  
Hermione was fidgeting, she couldn’t seem to help herself. Ever since the communal secretary for the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had informed her that Draco Malfoy- of all people- had scheduled an appointment to meet with her she’d been on edge. Not that she was afraid of him, she never truly had been, and she was convinced that he’d changed since the war anyway, but she just couldn’t see any reason that he’d make an appointment with her. That made her nervous.

  
She could only think of the way he'd fled from her in apparent terror at the fundraiser a couple of months ago, which was the last time she’d seen him, and wonder what he could possibly want from her little underappreciated and much maligned department. Also, why had he chosen to make an appointment with her specifically? She wasn’t even the boss. While the Malfoys had certainly been knocked down a few pegs in society following the war, they definitely still had the clout to get a meeting with most of the department heads in the ministry, yet he’d asked for her.

  
Truth be told she’d had a bit of a crush on Draco- no, Malfoy, she corrected her overly familiar thought- since he’d snuck up on her nearly a year ago during one of the fundraisers that had, unfortunately, become a staple of her post-war life, and had only laughed good naturedly at her when she'd jumped in surprise at his presence. He had proceeded to amuse her with witty conversation for the rest of the night, or at least until Ron had stormed up and pulled her away. But she’d enjoyed his company on several occasions since then and she hated to think that she’d lost his good opinion for some unknown reason. Though, when she'd started valuing his opinion she could not say and she tried not to examine the question too closely. She supposed, if she was honest, it didn't hurt that he’d become a devastatingly handsome man and it was rather captivating to be able to hold his attention; in short, his company had flattered her. His running from her had been mortifying and so this random appointment made her nervous. What was his game?

  
In the midst of her inner turmoil he arrived, creating a flurry of activity as he did; most of the employees in her department had not mastered the art of subtlety. Not that she had either, but the war had taught her a few things at least. She didn’t know whether to laugh with amusement or cringe with embarrassment as her co-workers scrambled to get a look at the infamous tall blond wizard. She could actually hear the murmured conversations break out as they wondered what he was doing in their offices. He solved the problem of making her decide how to respond by striding into her office before she could do anything at all, kicking the door shut as he went and somehow managing to actually fall gracefully into one of her stiff straight-backed visitors chairs.

  
“You're looking good, Hermione,” he said, like he strode into her office and greeted her conversationally every day.

  
The look on his face as he perused her body, making no attempt to disguise his appraisal, was surprisingly appreciative and it made her blush.

  
“Thank you,” she couldn’t help but reply, demurely, even as her brain was going a bit haywire at the sound of her first name on his lips, “So are you,” she responded.

  
And he did, they were 20- supposedly done growing- but she was certain that Draco got taller every time she saw him and more handsome too, unbelievably. She longed to touch him and she hated herself a little bit for it, she wasn't usually so superficial. And though she'd truly begun to enjoy his company as of late, it really didn't matter because there wasn’t a single person she loved who would understand, especially considering that she didn't understand it herself. He may not be the awful boy he had been, but he was a Death Eater. She had managed to see past that in the two years since the war had ended, but she knew that Harry, and especially Ron, found it impossible to do so. She had to get over this silly crush.

  
“What can I do for you Malfoy? Honestly, I was a bit surprised to see you’d made an appointment,” she asked, her voice sounding falsely cheerful to her own ears.   
She watched him as he gathered himself and realized that while he was as handsome as always, she had been mistaken, because he didn’t actually look well. He may have been beautiful, but he didn't seem healthy, in fact he looked exhausted. Though he was impeccably dressed and his hair perfectly coiffed in an artfully careless way; there were dark circles under his eyes, his posture was rather slumped, and most telling, his trademark smirk was absent. He took a deep breath and fidgeted in his chair, Hermione had to resist the urge to respond in kind. She’d been around this man in a lot of different situations, including some terrible ones, but she’d never seen him look uncomfortable. It put her automatically on guard.

  
“What do you know about veela?” he eventually asked her.

  
She relaxed slightly, while certainly unexpected this was nothing she couldn't handle.

  
“Oh! Well, I’m sorry to tell you but you’ve come to the wrong place, they don’t come under our jurisdiction and I don’t know much myself. I’ve tried to do a bit of research on my own, of course, just out of curiosity but I didn’t get very far, they’re quite secretive,” she babbled, as she was wont to do when she was excited or nervous, and she was a bit of both at the moment.

  
He chuckled and the sound went straight to her groin, to her mortification. He peered at her through the fringe of his hair because he had ducked his head shyly. Shyly? Who was this and what had he done with Draco Malfoy?

  
“I wasn’t asking you as the Deputy Head of this department,” he said with a small smile.  
That brought her up short. Why would he come to her place of work to ask her what she knew of veela, of all things, only to tell her it didn’t actually have anything to do with her work?

  
“Are you saying that was a personal question?” she asked timidly.

  
He just nodded.

  
“But I’m at work,” she responded dumbly.

  
He chuckled again.

  
“I thought you might say that, which is why I made the appointment around lunch time.

Would you accompany me to lunch?”

  
“You want to take me to lunch?” she questioned.

  
He nodded.

  
“To talk about veela?"

  
He nodded again.

  
“Um, okay, I don't have any other plans,” she frowned to herself, “but why the ruse with the appointment? Why didn’t you simply ask me to have lunch with you?”

  
He visibly hesitated.

  
“I wasn’t sure how that would be received. I don’t know where you live and I didn’t want to just send an owl,” he confessed.

  
She thought about this for a moment and then her lips twitched in amusement.

  
“If I was determined to turn you down, you were going to make me do it in person,” she surmised.

  
He shrugged sheepishly.

  
“You’re a bleeding heart Gryffindor, if I was sitting here across from you I thought you might have a harder time saying ‘no.’”

  
“Very Slytherin,” she said with a grin.

  
“It’s in my blood,” he said and then immediately blanched, he looked at her, clearly panicked, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything by that!” he blurted.

  
She frowned to herself, baffled by his reaction. Was he actually apologizing for making an innocent comment about blood? She didn't know how to respond to that other than to shrug it off.

  
“Merlin, Malfoy! What’s the matter with you? Why are you being so weird? Let’s get out of here before I become convinced you’ve been taken over by pod people or something,” she rolled her eyes and stood up.

  
“Pod people?” he asked incredulously.

  
“It's a muggle thing,” she assured him, “don’t worry about it,” she added, at a loss as to how to further explain, that would require far too many layers of cultural references none of which he was likely to understand.

  
“I know this all seems very odd to you at the moment, but I assure you it’s important,” he said solemnly, bringing her to a halt with a hand on her arm just as they were about to exit her office.

  
She simply shrugged, she had to admit that she was intrigued, but she wasn’t put out and saw no reason to make him sweat, especially with him already looking so stressed and serious. She shot him a small smile.

  
“For future reference you can just send an owl.”

  
She nearly breathed a sigh of relief when he finally did something predictable and smirked.

  
“Noted.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Draco had never been so nervous in his life; scared out of his mind more times than he could count thanks to some truly insane relatives and the Dark Lord, but nerves? Malfoys just didn’t really do nerves. After the initial revelation of his status as a veela and of Hermione as his mate, he’d determined to do whatever he had to do to have her. But then, upon reflection and in a fit of unprecedented selflessness, he’d reconsidered.

He realized that any relationship they built could only benefit him. She was a rising star at the ministry and in British magical society as a whole, whereas his personal reputation and his family name both had big black stains on them shaped like the Dark Lord’s hideous mark. He had a scar on his forearm to remind him of that fact everyday. On top of that, those two oafs she called best friends despised him and the Weasleys hated his family; there was a good chance that none of them would ever accept him and she could lose most of the people she cared for in the magical world if she became involved with him. Then, of course, there was the memory of the hideous way that he and his family had treated her in the past, and how his parents very well may continue to in the future. How could he ask her to just endure all of that? Simply put, he couldn’t.

His resolution lasted a few weeks. But then the reality of being alone for the rest of what he could expect, as a wizard and a veela at that, to be a very long life began to set in; the thought of pining for her from afar, watching her loving other men, maybe even having a family. It was just too much for him to bear and he determined that he would at least make sure she knew that she had a choice.

He would tell her about his new abilities, about their connection, he would let her know that nobody could ever love her the way he would love her. He would explain that they were predestined to have beautiful, brilliant, magically gifted children; and that their family could rule the world if she wished it (because Gryffindor though she may be, he’d gone to school with her and he knew how fiercely ambitious she was). He would let her decide if it was worth it, and he would do everything in his power to make it so.

He set about formulating a plan as to how to best go about telling her. Not seeing her was…hard. So, like a besotted fool, he lurked around the ministry occasionally just so he could catch a glimpse of her, and it was a good thing he was an excellent lurker because if anybody had figured out what he was really doing he would have died on the spot of mortification.

It was difficult to get used to, the new desperation he felt for her, while still also being the cool reserved pureblood he’d always been. It was like having a split personality, one attitude towards her and another towards the rest of the world. Everything and nothing had changed.

It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to research the plan he was finally enacting, because it required going out into the muggle world, wearing muggle clothes, and interacting with muggles. None of which he knew how to do, at least not without seriously endangering the Statute of Secrecy, or looking like an idiot in front of the only woman he’d ever really wanted to impress. But he couldn't meet her in the magical world, the two of them alone together would attract attention, they'd have no hope of a private conversation. He finally enlisted a friend of his cousin who was a half-blood- because he didn’t know anybody personally who knew anything about muggles- to help him and she graciously gave him advice and patiently answered all of his questions.

So, that was how he’d gotten here, sitting in a little Italian restaurant across from a witch he’d spent years bullying who now held his entire future happiness in her tiny hands. If she was surprised by where he'd taken her she hadn't said anything. However, he hadn’t missed the look of astonishment on her face when he’d removed his outer robes before they left the ministry to reveal the shirt and trousers that Marion had assured him were appropriate for the time of day and the restaurant. He also hadn’t missed the appreciative glance that followed as her eyes raked over his body. He knew he was a good looking wizard, and vain enough about it to simply expect witches to be attracted to him. So the warmth that blossomed in his chest when he noticed Hermione admiring him was entirely new, and for the first time he let himself believe that maybe this might actually work out.

“So, what do you know about veela?” he repeated his earlier question after they’d received their drinks and placed their orders.

He was glad he didn’t have to worry about keeping his voice down along with all the other things he had to worry about. He’d had plans to discreetly cast a privacy ward so that they could speak freely, but she’d beat him to it and cast something he didn’t recognize. When pressed she'd admitted that was because she’d invented it herself for situations such as these. His admiration for her grew. If only he could convince her to be his, they could really accomplish anything together.

“You really want to talk about veela, huh?” she said, an amused expression on her face.

He gave a curt nod.

“Well let’s see,” she took a sip of wine, looking thoughtful, “like I said, they’re very secretive. They have an allure that makes them nearly irresistible to the opposite sex except for those with strong mental shields or who are already deeply in love, and while they can ratchet it up to the point where it becomes a weapon, it’s always present to some degree. They are quite strong, and are capable of an avian transformation during which their strength increases and their wings are magic resistant. They are venomous. And they each have one mate for life to whom they will be completely devoted, a veela’s mate is supposedly very lucky indeed,” she finished with a little smile, and wide eyes, peering at him as if asking if she’d passed the test.

  
He couldn’t hide his surprise and cocked one eyebrow at her. Only Hermione Granger would classify that as ‘not knowing much.’

“Hermione, that is far more than most people know.”

She ducked her head, appearing to try to hide in her wine glass, and blushed.

“Well, Fleur Weasley’s grandmother was a veela. Fleur really is a lovely person once you get to know her, but she does like to hear herself talk. I was curious so I just got her going and asked roundabout questions and she seemed happy to tell me…” she trailed off sheepishly and shrugged.

His Slytherin soul rejoiced at this proof of cunning in his mate. He should have known, given that they were quite literally made for each other. Or, maybe it was he who was made for her, given that she was eight and a half months older than him. That was an interesting thought. One that, before this veela business, he would have refused to even consider.

“What about physical appearance, know anything about that?” he pressed, thinking it would be easier for her to accept his secret if she figured it out for herself.

“Well aside from the unearthly beauty,” she said wryly, “they’re tall with distinctive silver-blonde hair-”

She stopped short, her eyes went wide, her mouth dropped open and he could practically see the Knut drop. That was his clever girl. He had to reach across the table using his new and improved lighting fast reflexes to catch the wine glass she dropped in her shock. She just stared at him before leaning across the table herself almost meeting him nose to nose.

“But you’re a pureblood!” she whisper yelled.

“Yes,” he said calmly, “that’s one of the biggest misconceptions about veela, that we’re a separate species who are simply able to procreate with humans like goblins or giants are. We’re not, it’s more like a set of abilities that only manifest every few generations when needed, and it runs in families.”

“Like metamorphmagi and animagi,” she said immediately.

Oh, his brilliant witch, how could he have ever seen her as anything other than utterly magnificent? He forced himself to calm down, he didn't want to scare her, or worse, embarrass himself with his enthusiasm.

“Yes, though more like metamorphmagi because that’s a natural ability, whereas one has to work to become an animagus, though you do have to be born with the ability to transform,” he explained, pushing his thoughts aside lest he be any more tempted to pull her across the table and into his arms.

She sat back in her chair and absently sipped her wine, obviously lost in thought.

“No wonder your mother is so beautiful,” she mused.

He chuckled and she started, apparently having nearly forgotten that he was there while lost in her thoughts. Usually he would have been affronted, but he was already so gone for this witch that he just found it adorable.

“She's not actually a veela. She has the looks but she never manifested any abilities. Though I think many would argue she does have a certain allure. It does come from her side of the family though.”

“The transfigurative magic is impressive in that family,” she noted.

He just nodded. The Blacks had an animagus, two metamorphi, and now a veela all within a couple of generations, which was remarkable. But the fact that two of the people in question had been killed and one orphaned by a war in which he and Hermione had fought on opposite sides was awkward to say the least, and he couldn't find anything to actually say in response. There was a pregnant pause. She got lost in thought again and when she finally looked up she blinked owlishly at him.

“Well, this is all very interesting, I’ll admit,” she said eventually, “and I’d love to pick your brain if you’ll let me, but I have to ask: why have you brought me to lunch in muggle London, of all places, to tell me that you’re a veela?"

Well, here it was, the moment of truth.

“Remember that thing you said about a veela having one mate to whom he or she would be completely devoted? Also, try to remember that you admitted that a veela’s mate would be very lucky.”

He held her gaze as she just stared at him for an interminable few seconds. He saw the moment she understood and was almost relieved. But then she burst out laughing and his heart plummeted into his stomach.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Hermione couldn’t help it, she erupted into hysterical laughter because Draco Malfoy had just revealed to her that he was a veela and then, even more unbelievably, had implied that she was his mate. Her impressive mind was floundering and laughter was the only way it could respond to such an assertion. It was ridiculous, right? Maybe she was hallucinating. That was as good an explanation as any, wasn't it? Certainly more plausible than she and Malfoy, of all people, being destined for each other.

Her laughter probably would have continued for a while longer had the waitress not arrived with their meals. She got herself under control, wiped her eyes, and finally turned back to Draco. He looked...rather hurt, so, maybe not an hallucination. She instantly felt guilty.

“Oh Malfoy, I’m sorry! I really am! It’s just that, if you’re right about this then the universe has one hell of a sense of humor.”

He just stared at her, stony faced. 

“There is no if, Granger,” he practically spat her last name, “you are my mate. You can do what you want with the information, but it's fact,” he sneered. 

She sat back in her chair and stared at him, contemplating her response. 

“Oh good,” she quipped cooly after making him wait for few long minutes, “he’s back.”

“Excuse me,” he drawled sardonically, “to whom are you referring?”

“The real you,” she said, “the smug bastard I went to school with. Honestly, I’m relieved, the fidgeting and the nervousness were really starting to freak me out,” she said sincerely, a little quirk to her lip that she hoped took some of the sting out of her harsh comment.

Who’d have ever thought she’d be happy for a reminder of his propensity for prattishness? His lips twitched in return and he let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. 

“Me too,” he admitted. 

“Are you-” she cut herself off and studied him carefully, “are you afraid of me?” she asked incredulously, once she considered his behavior and its possible implications. 

She was now seriously regretting the laughing, it wasn't like her to be so insensitive. He sighed and ran another hand through his hair, at this rate it was going to be as unruly as hers.

“Hermione, you can’t possibly understand how much power you have over me now. I’m not a fool, I remember how horrible I was to you for years. I know how much we used to despise each other, how much Potter and Weasley still do, and you’d step in front of a killing curse for either of them. I know what the chances are of this going well for me, I considered not even approaching you because of it; hence the fidgeting and nervousness, as you say.”

Her heart lurched. Wait, what? Where had that come from? Draco Malfoy was not supposed to have any effect on her heart. She just had a slight crush, one that she fully intended to get over. Except that crush was on a man who was now claiming to be, essentially, her other half. Oh, dear. She took a deep breath. 

“I think you need to explain this to me, how you know that I'm supposedly your mate, and what it means exactly,” she said firmly, she'd survived a war by staying calm and using logic, she could get through this too. 

She could tell he wanted to argue about her use of the word ‘supposedly’ but he visibly bit back a retort. 

“Do you remember what happened at the event on the summer solstice?” he simply asked instead. 

“It would be pretty hard for me to forget it, you practically ran out of the room, I spent the rest of the night trying to figure out what I’d done to offend you!” she said with a little laugh, though at the time she'd truly been worried. 

He gave her a soft smile and reached across the table for her hand, but hesitated before he could take it and, instead, allowed his to fall onto the starched tablecloth.

“I am sorry about that, you didn’t do anything wrong. Veela reach full maturity later than most witches and wizards, once we turn 20 our abilities are able to manifest, but it takes a major stressor or otherwise life altering event to force them into doing so. It's the veela equivalent of accidental magic, you may be old enough to perform magic but you don't just consciously start using it, something has to force you into it. Well, something has to force those with the possibility of veela abilities into making the transformation the first time, and for a veela there is no event more life altering than meeting his or her mate, it's the instinct to protect and claim, you see. Obviously, I had met you plenty of times before, but that was the first time I’d seen you since I was able to recognize you as my mate. If you remember that event took place on June 21st, my twentieth birthday was on the 5th. I ran from the room that night because I thought it was an inappropriate place to sprout wings.”

“But how do you know it was me, and not somebody or something else?” she pled, this was just too impossible to believe. 

“It’s not something you can really mistake,” he murmured, more to himself than anything, “may I show you something?” 

She nodded.

“I need your hand,” he said, reaching across the table.

She held one out to him and he enfolded it in both of his, she was suddenly enveloped by warmth and happiness, like all was right in the world, everything in its proper place. Her eyes fell shut in pleasure and then popped back open in surprise. 

“What is that?” she gasped.

“Our magic,” he said with another of those gorgeous soft smiles. 

“But how is that possible? I mean I can feel my magic when I reach out for it and sometimes when I’m really emotional as well, and Harry, well we’ve been close for so long that I can kind of sense when he’s near, but I’ve never heard of anything like this,” she asked, troubled as she always was when she came across something she couldn’t explain. 

He frowned and she got the distinct feeling that he was displeased by the idea of her having such a close connection with Harry. Well, that was tough for him. Luckily he simply answered her question. 

“Our magic calls to the other’s and proximity makes it sing, or that’s how one of my ancestors described it, anyhow,” he explained. 

“One of your ancestors?” she questioned. 

“My ancestors who have manifested as veela all kept journals to aid future generations of veela. They can only be read by the veela in my family line and their bonded mates. If I hadn’t already been sure that you were my mate when I read the journals I would have been left without a doubt, they all described what I felt when we touched that night as exactly the reaction of a veela finding his mate.”

Hermione perked up at that.

“Can I see those!?”

He chuckled.

“Of course you would be excited about the books. And I’m sorry, but no. It’s meant as a built-in protection for my family, you won’t be able to access them until we are bonded and you are, therefore, one of us,” he explained with a sympathetic look, “if we do, in fact, bond,” he hastily added. 

“Oh,” she responded dejectedly, “what does that mean exactly, bonded?”

He looked at her askance and again ran a hand through his hair. That probably wasn't a good sign. 

“We have sex and I bite you, injecting you with my venom, thus sealing the bond our magic has already created,” he confessed in a rush. 

“You have to bite me!” she screeched, horrified.

Perhaps her muggle upbringing was showing in reacting so negatively to what would probably be classified as an ancient magical ritual, but she didn't care, it just sounded wrong. She tried to rip her hand away from him, but he was much stronger than her and easily kept it clutched between his and began rubbing soothing circles on her palm. 

“I know it sounds rather barbaric, but I have it on good authority that it is an intimate and extremely pleasurable experience. It is also something I would certainly never do without your permission,” he said very seriously, keeping his eyes on hers the whole time, then lifting her hand to his mouth and placing a kiss on the inside of her wrist, before finally letting her go. 

She shivered in pleasure and felt all of her revulsion wash away with that simple gesture. Perhaps there was something to this crazy ‘mate theory’ of his. Oh, who was she kidding, she couldn't deny the connection she felt with him. 

“And what if I never ask you to?” she asked, her revulsion may have been gone, but that didn’t make her ready to commit her life to Draco Malfoy based solely on his word and the fact that it felt wonderful to hold his hand. 

“That is your choice. If you choose never to see me again after today I will accept that,” he said with obvious difficulty. 

She felt a nearly overwhelming need to comfort him which she viciously suppressed in favor of finishing this conversation. 

“But what does that mean for you?” she pressed. 

He gave her a long measured glance before he started talking. 

“I will never fall in love with anybody but you. I will most likely live my life out alone. If I do marry it will be because I decide I want a companion and find a woman I am fond of who is okay with knowing I will never truly love her, or because my parents coerce me into an arrangement in an attempt to continue the Malfoy line. Though that would be foolish of them because I won’t be able to get any other witch pregnant, my magic won’t allow me to procreate with anybody except my mate. I will miss you, but I want you to be happy and if you don’t find it with me then I want you to try and find it elsewhere.”

“So, the fate of the Malfoy line rests with me,” she asked dryly.

He nodded, the exhaustion she’d noticed in her office suddenly returned to his visage, she hadn’t realized how much being around her had improved his appearance until the improvement vanished. 

“Ironic,” she noted.

He snorted in agreement. 

“And no pressure,” she added sarcastically. 

Honestly, it was kind of terrible, he was at her mercy. No wonder he'd been so nervous. 

“I did not say that to pressure you,” he said seriously, “I said it because you asked and I will never lie to you.”

She nodded.

“And I will leave you alone, if that’s what you wish,” he leaned over and placed a finger under her chin, tilting her head so that he was looking her in the eye, “but know that nobody will ever love you the way that I can. If you allow it I will adore you and care for you like no other man could. Our children will be priceless treasures. Our family will be my everything. It is within my power to provide you anything you could possibly want, and to protect you from those who would dare even consider doing you harm. I will hand you the world on a silver platter. And if you just give me a chance, I will prove it to you.”

He’d gotten much closer as he was speaking and she shivered at his words and the husky tone of his voice. She wanted to lean in further and close the distance between them. She wanted to round the table and fall into his arms. But she resisted. Because she didn’t think she could tell him ‘no’ even if she wanted to, and that terrified her.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Draco hadn’t known it was possible because post owls were especially hearty creatures, but over the next few days Hermione wore his personal owl, Aeolus, out from the sheer volume of her correspondence, and he had to resort to using the family owls to communicate with her. Luckily for him his father’s sense of self importance meant that the Manor had an owlery full of discreet and efficient birds, even these days when communication between the Malfoys and the outside world was at an all time low. Draco couldn’t figure out how she was churning out the letters so quickly unless she was using a dicta-quill, but he thought that seemed out of character for her. She would feel the need to put her full effort into her writing just like she did everything else. (When he had a thought like that, which he was having with increasing frequency, he realized how closely he'd been watching her for years without even knowing it, and he wondered if his harassment of her hadn't just been a subconscious way to get close to her. He’d had no trouble ignoring all the other muggleborn students at Hogwarts. Had he known all along on an instinctual level that she was special?)

Unfortunately for him, for as much information as he provided her, he received almost nothing in return, just more questions. He tried not to worry about karma. She asked questions about things he hadn’t even considered and then asked for clarification on his points of clarification. He hinted, more than once, that the discussions would be more effective and certainly more efficient in person, but she pointedly ignored him. He suspected that he’d scared her with his raw words at the restaurant, she’d beaten a hasty retreat after their lunch and wouldn’t even allow him to escort her back to the Ministry, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d had to make sure she understood. 

He also wondered if it was difficult for her to stay away from him. If she felt even a fraction of the compulsion to be around him that he felt to be around her. The journals assured him that she would, so she must, they'd been right about everything else. Then again, hadn't Hermione Granger been the exception to every other rule he'd ever learned? Merlin, for all he knew she was only writing him because he was a source of intellectual curiosity for her! And even if she did feel something for him, he knew she was a stubborn thing and her keeping her distance wasn’t a huge surprise, or so he consoled himself. He also reminded himself that he hadn't even expected her to accept him, and certainly not right away. She was a truthfinder, his mate, she at least needed time to gather all the facts. So, he tried not to dwell on it too much, lest he begin to despair. He was becoming embarrassingly melodramatic and could only hope that years of practice masking his emotions would keep anybody from finding out, though he doubted he'd be able to hide it from his mate. If she ever consented to see him again, that is. Right, he wasn't panicking at all. 

The only thing that kept him from saying ‘blast it all,’ and just showing up at her office at the Ministry again was the fact that he knew she didn’t desire it, and the only compulsion stronger than the one to be with her was the one to make her happy. It had been quite a thing to come to terms with- for a man who had been such a spoiled and selfish child- that her happiness would forevermore be his first priority, even if it meant his own suffering. He also knew that nothing would make him happier than if she would allow him to be the one to make her happy. He was an enamored fool and all he could do about it was continue to answer her questions, wait, and hope. 

He was a bit surprised by her level of interest in the transformation itself. She wanted intricate details about how it felt, wondered if it was anything like taking polyjuice potion. He was touched when he finally realized that she was concerned that it might be painful for him, especially considering that she had been the catalyst for his first transformation. He put her fears to rest, and explained that it was somewhat like a polyjuice transformation except it came from within, instead of the potion acting on his magic to force the transformation, thus there was none of the discomfort associated with taking that particular potion. He admitted that it had taken him three days to calm down enough to transform back into his normal self after his first forced transformation, but explained that he could now do it at will, though he did feel the urge to transform whenever his emotions were heightened. If he felt like she was in any sort of danger he suspected he’d have trouble stopping himself from transforming, considering that her safety and happiness were now his raison d'etre.

She wanted to know all about his heightened senses. She’d proposed experiments that they could use to test the limits of his new abilities (this perked him up, she clearly wanted to be involved and he'd let her use him as a guinea pig all day long if it meant spending that time with her.) She'd questioned him as to the extent to which he had experimented with his allure. It was nearly endless. He was frustrated, amused, and strangely aroused. He could only hope her insatiable thirst for knowledge was matched in other areas. 

Until, after two days of letters asking about him he realized that she was very pointedly avoiding talking about them. Finally, she tentatively asked what his parents thought about all of this, especially about her being his mate, (the tone of her letter practically screamed caution) and he was forcibly reminded how tenuous their situation was. He wasn't sure either of them had a single person in their lives who would approve if they went forward with a relationship. To him that felt like a minor hiccup, but it might be too big of a sacrifice for her to make. He swallowed his dread as he responded to her letter. He admitted that he hadn’t told his parents yet because he’d felt very strongly that he should tell her first, and that he would let her decide how to proceed. Pre-war it would have been odd for him to lock himself in his wing of the Manor for days at a time and he probably would have been found out, but these days that wasn’t unusual and his parents remained ignorant of his new abilities, and especially of his mate. 

When she asked him to speculate on their reactions he told her that he expected them to be pleased; veela were rare and powerful, especially males, he was probably the first in Britain in centuries. He was much less certain about their reactions to her. He simply didn’t know if the veela aspect would influence them or if they would still refuse to accept a muggleborn into the family. He made it abundantly clear, though, that he would stand by her no matter what they thought, and that it hadn’t even been difficult to come to that decision, his devotion to her was unflinching. 

When she suggested that it was odd that she, of all people, ended up as his mate, he admitted he’d thought so too, at first. But upon further contemplation he had realized that it made perfect sense. It was unfortunate that they’d had such a combative history, but that had been much more a result of circumstances than any indication that they were unsuited. They were both intelligent, numbers one and two in their class for their entire Hogwarts careers. Everybody knew that she liked to read- thanks to the press’ obsession with the so-called ‘Golden Trio’ following the war- and though he was quieter about it, he was also a bibliophile. He had a feeling that her Gryffindor optimism would soothe some of his Slytherin cynicism, and his no nonsense attitude would curb some of her bossy behavior. He no longer cared about blood status, and while it might upset his parents that she was a muggleborn, he actually thought it was time to diversify the bloodlines. There were simply too few purebloods left for them to continue to only marry one another. She was one of the most brilliant and powerful witches in any recent generation, it made perfect sense that his veela nature would be drawn to her and that they would be destined to bring powerful, gifted children into a world that had been badly ravished by three separate wars in the past century. 

She wrote him dozens of feet of parchment and yet he had no real idea of how she was feeling about everything he told her, of how she felt about him at all. She was perfectly polite, nothing more, nothing less. He always thought she wore her heart on her sleeve. He'd scoffed at her typical Gryffindor-ness. Well, the joke was on him, because apparently she was capable of being as evasive as any Slytherin. 

Most frustratingly, his newfound respect and desire for her kept him from pushing her, he would simply exist in limbo until she was good and ready to decide how they were going to proceed. After the Dark Lord he’d promised himself he’d never again allow himself to come under the control of another. Apparently destiny had other ideas. But despite it all he still somehow knew that no matter the outcome he would never regret her.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione was frightened by how much she missed Draco. He told her it would happen, that their magic would crave the other’s now that they’d found each other, but that didn’t keep it from scaring her. Because when it came down to it, she didn't even know him that well, he shouldn't have such an effect on her and she was wary of a magical connection that made her pine for him. It was out of her control and she was a control freak.

He was incredibly patient with her, he answered all of her questions promptly and thoroughly. She was probably now one of the world’s leading experts on veela, and yet she still didn’t know what to do. She needed somebody to talk to; her friends were out for obvious reasons, her parents would never understand, if they would even consent to talk to her in the first place. It took an embarrassingly long five days for her to realize that there was an obvious candidate she’d completely overlooked. A woman whom she trusted implicitly and who would most likely have more knowledge than most. She immediately flooed Andromeda Tonks and arranged to have tea with her.

After the war, as soon as the funerals were over, Hermione had flown to Australia to reverse the memory charms on her parents. It did not go well, she had no trouble returning their memories, but could not have been prepared for the fury she would face when she did. In the end they gave her an ultimatum: them or magic. They did not understand that she couldn’t simply quit being a witch. She returned to England, they eventually followed, but they had little contact and she certainly could not return to living in her childhood home. Meanwhile, the Burrow had always felt a little stifling to Hermione, as an only child she simply wasn’t used to so much activity, and in light of the family’s palpable grief and the fact that her relationship with Ron didn’t pan out, she found that she could not continue to live there either.

  
So, Andromeda graciously offered up her home as a place of refuge. She’d been spending a lot of time there anyway babysitting Teddy while Andromeda, a talented healer, worked overtime undoing as much of the damage that Voldemort’s terrible reign had wrought on the British population as she could. They bonded over their respective grief, and Andromeda knew what it was like to lose family to your own choices. She'd stayed with the older witch until she returned to Hogwarts and then again once she graduated while she got used to adult life. She considered Andromeda a surrogate mother and really should have come to her sooner. The fact that she was Draco’s aunt and would know the Black family stories was just a bonus.

“It’s always good to see you, Dear,” the older witch greeted Hermione as they settled around the table in her kitchen, “but something tells me that this isn’t merely a social call,” she said with the arch of one brow.

Hermione was unsurprised by this observation, not only did Andromeda know her well, but she was aware that her floo call had been a bit frantic and that she also looked pretty frazzled. It was fairly obvious that something was awry.

“You’re right,” Hermione answered wryly, “I wanted to ask you what you know about veela,” she said, feeling a slight sense of deja vu from her discussion with Draco.

Andromeda looked visibly surprised, and she was very difficult to catch off guard.

“Is there a particular reason you’ve come to me with this?” she asked pointedly.

“Yes, I had a surprise visitor at work last week,” she hedged a bit.

She was a little wary of how Andromeda was going to react to talk of a Malfoy. As close as they were she generally avoided talking about her past, and Narcissa Malfoy was all there was left of the family that had disowned her in her youth. Andromeda had never even met her nephew. Hermione felt bad broaching the issue but her desire for knowledge and advice were greater than her guilt.

“Oh?”

She gathered her Gryffindor courage.

“Draco Malfoy,” she admitted quietly, she’d come over for a reason, after all, it was foolish to beat around the bush.

If Andromeda didn’t already have perfect posture Hermione was convinced this revelation would have had her sitting up straight.

“Are you telling me he has manifested veela abilities?” she asked, an edge to her voice.

Hermione nodded, unsurprised the witch had been quick on the uptake.

“And he admitted to me that it was inherited from the Black side of the family, so I thought you might have some inside information.”

“I probably know more than most. But I don't understand why he went to you for advice?” she asked incredulously, “His mother heard the same stories I did, I have a hard time believing she didn’t pass them on, she was always the most enthralled by them,” she scoffed.

Again, Hermione didn’t see any point in beating around the bush.

“No, he came to tell me that I’m his mate,” she said matter of factly.

Andromeda just stared at her for a long moment, and then she began to chuckle. Hermione simply sat and waited her out.

“I’m sorry, this isn’t a laughing matter,” she apologized after a few moments, visibly pulling herself together.

Hermione shook her head.

“Actually, that was my reaction exactly, except mine was longer, louder, and more hysterical.”

She winced at the memory, she really felt quite badly about that now.

“Talk about having your chickens come home to roost,” Andromeda said wryly, “does Narcissa know about this? Oh, how ironic, I'm sure it's a dream come true for her son to be a veela, and then fate goes and hands him a muggleborn mate. I would be very interested to know if she can put her beliefs aside so that her son can be happy with the only woman he’ll ever love, or if she’ll try to insist on a match doomed to make him unhappy just to keep the bloodlines pure.”

Hermione sighed.

“He hasn’t told his parents yet, about being a veela or about me. And either the bloodlines are going to be tainted or they are going to end,” Hermione answered with a rueful snort.

She believed that Draco hadn't told her that to pressure her, but she felt it nonetheless.

“What do you mean?” she frowned.

“According to Draco,” Hermione nearly stumbled over his first name, but it occurred to her that it was odd to continue to call him ‘Malfoy,’ useless to pretend he was still just that boy she’d gone to school with, “he can only have kids with me. His magic won’t allow him to impregnate another witch.”

Andromeda nodded thoughtfully, but was otherwise apparently unfazed.

“I suppose that makes sense, it accounts for some of the romantic nonsense in the stories about veela only having families with their mates, I just never thought to interpret that literally.”

Hermione shrugged.

“He has these journals passed down from his ancestors who were veela. Only fully manifested veela and their bonded mates can read them, so only he knows the specifics. You don’t think he’s lying to me, do you?”

“No,” she replied without hesitation, “if you are his mate- which is certainly not something he would lie about, the bond is sacrosanct- it would go against his every instinct to hurt you in any way. He wouldn’t deceive you.”

Hermione just nodded, for some reason she had been inclined to believe him almost from the beginning, at least once she got past the shock. It’s what all of her instincts were screaming at her. No, doubt wasn’t the thing holding her back, it was fear.

“I miss him,” she admitted in a small voice.

“Miss him?” Andromeda questioned with a frown, “is he out of the country? Why can’t you see him?”

Hermione looked at the older witch, flabbergasted by her easy acceptance of the situation.

“It’s not that I can’t see him, I just haven’t. We had lunch on Friday, and he told me about all of this, and I told him I needed to think. We’ve been owling since then, he’s been giving me all the details.”

“What did you need to think about? You aren’t under the ridiculous impression that you need my permission to be with him because his mother shunned me for marrying Ted, are you?” she asked, looking almost angry.

What? Andromeda thought she should just be with him, just like that?

“No, though I was going to make sure you were okay with it, but that's not the reason. Right now I’m still trying to figure out if I’m willing to be in a relationship with him.”

Andromeda looked completely nonplussed by this statement.

“Is this because of your pasts? You certainly have plenty of issues to work through, but the connection between a veela and his mate is sacred, you’ll be able to do it and, in the end, nobody will make you happy like he will.”

“No, it’s not about our pasts, not really, we had already started up a tentative friendship before all of this. Though, I am concerned about how my friends and the Weasleys will react. But primarily I’m worried that it’s not real.”

“Not real?” asked Andromeda, apparently more confused still.

Under any other circumstances Hermione would have found this reaction funny, the older witch was usually so unflappable. As it was she just sighed.

“Yes, like it’s just veela whammy. Just our magic wanting each other, but not real attraction, and that it won’t be real love.”

Andromeda just blinked at her, mouthing ‘whammy’ to herself, but then a look of realization slowly dawned on her face.

“I think I understand, Ted had this problem sometimes too,” she said, nodding to herself.

“What problem is that?”

“You're muggleborn,” she replied.

Hermione automatically opened her mouth to protest but Andromeda held up a hand to stop her.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she said a bit sharply.

Hermione lowered her head in shame. She’d never seen Andromeda display an ounce of prejudice, Merlin, the woman married a muggleborn and still spent a great deal of time in the non-magical world even now that her husband was dead, it had been foolish to jump to conclusions. Andromeda continued on smoothly.

“I simply meant that you didn’t grow up with magic so you don’t trust it in the same way that those of us who have always had it in our lives do. Magic is just as much a part of you as it is me, but in some ways your mindset is that of a muggle. You know magic is real but sometimes you still have trouble not believing it to be a trick.”

Again, part of Hermione wanted to bristle in indignation at her words, but she knew that she must be misinterpreting her statement. She frowned and tried to wrap her mind around the concept.

“How long were you a part of the magical world before you stopped automatically reaching for a light switch when you entered a room? I know you still do many things the muggle way. You’re magical but you don’t depend on your magic the way Draco or I do.”

“Okay, I think I see what you’re saying…” she trailed off thoughtfully.

It was true, her automatic reflex wasn’t always to rely on magic to accomplish things, she’d found that both to be an advantage and a hindrance, depending on the situation.

“Let’s apply that to this situation,” Andromeda continued, “If he wasn’t a veela and you weren’t his mate, if you had just seen Draco and found him handsome, would you consider that a valid reason to be attracted to him? If you talked to him and found him interesting, would that be? If you touched him and felt chemistry between the pair of you, would that?”  
Hermione nodded.

“You trust what your senses of sight and touch tell you. You trust what your brain tells you. In this case your magic is telling you that you’re attracted to him, it’s an extremely finely tuned sense and can tell you that you would be perfect for each other if you just do what it’s urging you to do. Granted, this is more than most magicals even experience, but as a veela Draco is special even for a magical and as his mate you are too, so things are different. But that is okay.”

Hermione suddenly remembered the way their magic interacted when they touched, how it was unlike anything she'd ever heard of before and Andromeda's words rang true.

“I just… I want to fall in love,” she admitted pitifully.

Andromeda looked at her sympathetically and reached over to take her hand in a maternal gesture of comfort.

“You’ll still get to fall in love, Sweetheart, it happening is just much more of a foregone conclusion for you two,” she squeezed Hermione’s hand and then reached up to tap a finger against her forehead, “That brain of yours is your greatest asset and your biggest curse. You’re overthinking this, don’t you think it’s time to listen to your heart and your magic? Why torture yourself missing him?”

“It just seems so fast.”

“What’s fast? There is no rule that says you have to get married tomorrow. Why don’t you tell him you want to date? Give yourselves the opportunity to really get to know each other. Merlin knows the lengths to which Lucius went to gain Narcissa’s affections, and preened like a peacock the whole time.”

Hermione resisted the urge to snicker immaturely at the picture of the elder Malfoys that Andromeda had painted. She also realized that Andromeda’s suggestion was actually a really good idea. The biggest thing Hermione had been struggling with was thinking that this was an all or nothing deal. But it wasn't, not immediately at least. She could approach this as any other relationship with a man she was interested in, and try to rest in the assurance that in this case there was less chance of heart break.

Really, what had she been thinking? That the next time she saw him she’d have to give him her virginity, let him bite her to seal the bond, and then move into Malfoy Manor? How absurd, she had let this whole situation skew her thinking. And it was getting more difficult with each passing day to stay away from him and she didn't know how much longer she could realistically hold out; surely it was better to take what control she could of the situation rather than keep living in denial until she snapped. Not to mention that would be selfish and unfair to Draco.

“You’re handling this a lot better than I thought you would,” she admitted to Andromeda.

“Why? Because you’re like a daughter to me and you thought I’d be concerned about you entering a new relationship? Or because Draco is my nephew and a former Death Eater?”

Hermione was a little surprised by that forthright assessment.

“Both, I suppose,” she admitted.

“Well, as a mother I always worry about you, it comes with the territory, but as a witch I understand how special the connection between a veela and his mate is and it’s all I could ever want for you. I don’t want you to deny yourself that happiness. As far as Draco himself, well, if I held the actions of my family against him, then I’m no better than them. I’ll judge him on his own merits when I meet him. But I trust your judgment and if he really thought and behaved like a Death Eater, I think you’d be here bemoaning what a terrible person he was and not simply that you’re scared of this connection you have with him.”

Hermione just stared at her, stunned, if she had any doubts remaining they’d just been thoroughly undercut. In fact, she now felt pretty foolish that she’d just spent the last five days panicking over this situation. She took a deep breath as another issue she'd been ignoring popped into her head now that she'd made a decision about Draco.

“I am worried about how my friends are going to react, I'm not sure any of them will accept Draco. Harry’s always hated him and Weasleys and Malfoys are like oil and water. Or, I don't know, like two things which not only don't mix but actively fight each other,” she worried her lip as she waited for a response.

Andromeda just looked at her for a long time.

“I can't tell you what to do, Hermione. My life is proof that sometimes things don't work out perfectly, sometimes choosing one thing means losing others. The Weasleys are good people, but they can be very judgmental and Harry allows himself to be led by them. Fate has given you a chance at true happiness, with power and prestige on top of that, if you want it. If they would have you deny yourself that because of their own preconceptions, are they really your friends?”

The words felt like lead in Hermione’s stomach, because they were true. She owed it to herself, and to Draco, who’d been nothing but wonderful since this whole thing started, to give them a chance. But doing so might cost her her oldest friends, and it was terribly hard to swallow that they might choose their prejudices over her. She just nodded to indicate that she'd understood what Andromeda was saying and raised her head to look at Andromeda as yet another thought occurred to her.

“I’m about to get inundated with a lot of pureblood nonsense, aren’t I?” she asked with dread.

The older witch started to smile evilly.

“Most definitely, but I’ll be happy to help you through it.”


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Draco would have been embarrassed by his reaction to the owl Hermione sent him on the sixth day, had anybody else been present when he received it. As it was he was too thrilled to bother trying to wipe the ridiculous grin off of his face. She wanted to see him. She had invited him to her flat. He probably should have suggested an alternate location as he wasn’t sure he would be able to control himself while both in her presence and in her space, but he was too curious, he wanted to see where she lived. He wanted to know everything about her.

As he had previously suspected she lived in the muggle world. He didn’t blame her, it was the only place she could get any anonymity. That was the reason he'd originally taken her to a muggle restaurant. Her comfort was paramount. But thankfully for him she was connected to the floo network, otherwise he wouldn’t have had a clue how to go about finding her flat. He stepped out into her living room at the agreed upon time after work the next day, to find her standing there waiting on him.

She looked beautiful in a red dress held up with small straps and then cinched at her tiny waist, turning into a full skirt which ended just above her knees and gave him a lovely view of her cleavage. Draco had a feeling he was going to become a big fan of muggle clothing. Her hair was wild and free around her face, she didn’t appear to be wearing any makeup at all, and her feet were adorably bare. She hadn't dressed up, she looked nice but casual, this was no formal meeting.

He was happily caught by surprise when she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was the perfect height for him to place his chin on the top of her head when she snuggled into him, he felt like he had finally come home. Her blissful sigh echoed his.

“So, does this mean you're willing to give me a chance?” he wondered aloud, unable to wait another moment.

“What?” she gasped, “oh yes, of course,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and then she buried her face in his chest, “but I owe you an apology first,” her hesitant voice was muffled by the fabric of his robes.

“For what?” he wondered.

What could have his brave mate basically cowering against him?

“I’ve been a selfish coward.”

He snorted, he certainly hadn't expected that.

“You? Gryffindor’s golden girl? I don't think anybody could ever accuse you of cowardice, recklessness maybe,” he teased gently, attempting to coax her out of her funk.

“But I have been, it's just that you scare me,” she wailed.

He froze and his thoughts began to race. She was scared of him? That shouldn't have been possible, her instincts should have told her that she was safe with him. But of course he had been a Death Eater, part of a group that had actively enslaved, tortured, and murdered people of her blood status. She'd been a victim of that torture and he a witness, he'd done nothing to protect her. Their new situation didn't erase their pasts, it was one thing to be casual friends and quite another to trust somebody enough to be in a romantic relationship. But she said she was going to give him a chance, what was she playing it? Luckily she seemed to understand his thoughts before he could get carried away with despair. She craned her neck to look him in the eye.

“Oh, no, no not like that! I’ve never been scared of you! No offense, but I didn’t find you particularly intimidating, ‘wait till my Father hears about this,’” she mocked lightly in a surprisingly good imitation of his unique inflection.

The relief he felt was nearly overwhelming, he didn't even care that she was making fun of him.

“This is you apologizing?” he joked.

She shook her head.

“I know, I’m doing a terrible job. I’m not very good at admitting when I’m wrong,” she admitted grudgingly.

“Well I wouldn’t know anything about that, as I’m never wrong,” he said loftily.

She looked up at him, blinking adorably as she processed that.

“You’re still a complete prat, aren’t you?”

He smirked.

“I hope you weren’t holding out for some kind of personality metamorphosis,” he said, only half in jest.

“No, I wouldn’t...I want you to be you. I’m not sure I know who that is yet, but I think I’m fairly well acquainted with your arrogance. If that was suddenly gone it would be disturbing. Anyway, I was trying to apologize,” she said with playful frustration.

“Proceed,” he said grandly, his formality belied by the way he was hugging her to him.

“I already feel very close to you, very connected. It’s not logical, and I’m very reliant on my logic. It scared me, so I avoided you. But that wasn’t fair to you, you’ve been nothing but kind and accommodating. It was the least I could do to meet up with you to discuss things rather than making you write me reams of parchment, but I just ignored your requests and hid. So, for that I am sorry.”

He didn't even have to think about it.

“Your apology is accepted. I’m not going to lie, you made me nervous. I couldn’t tell what you were thinking at all. But I’m not sure that I can blame you for any reaction you may have had. I’ve had months to get used to the idea that you’re my mate, and for years before that I knew that I could possibly turn out to be veela. It’s only been days for you, it wasn't a huge surprise that you needed time to think. May I ask what made you come around, though?”

She smiled to herself.

“I got some very good advice to trust my magic and my heart.”

“That does sound like good advice,” he agreed.

He breathed her in again, to assure himself that she was, in fact, here in his arms.

“Are you sniffing me?” she asked, with what sounded like a giggle, though he couldn’t be sure because he’d never heard Hermione Granger actually giggle.

“Get used to it, I have to assure myself that you’re safe, especially after so much time apart. If it helps, you smell absolutely delicious,” he finished lasciviously.

“You smell pretty good too,” she said, and he reveled in the way she buried her face in his chest, this time just because she wanted to, not because she was trying to hide.

Suddenly she pulled back and looked at him and he saw realization dawn across her face.

“Is that why you looked so terrible when you came to see me last week, because we’d been apart so long?” she asked, looking very anxious.

He made a face.

“Was it that obvious?”

“Well, you’re always gorgeous, nothing could change that, but let’s just say you looked like how I felt right before sitting my O.W.L.s, exhausted and stressed to the point of collapse.”

He suppressed the desire to preen over her evaluation of his looks, and simply gloated internally that his mate thought he was gorgeous.

“That sounds about right,” he admitted, giving nothing else away.

“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, eyes wide and repentant.

“It’s not your fault, love, you couldn’t have known and I was the one staying away from you,” he soothed her reflexively.

“But I’ve been avoiding you for the past week, I’ve been making you suffer,” she lamented, “I didn't know that would happen.”

His heart swelled, she was so wonderful, so compassionate. It became more and more clear why she was his mate. He’d never had anybody like that in his life and he hadn’t realized until this moment what he was missing, she was here to fill the holes and smooth the rough edges of his life. In turn he'd be so fierce that nothing would be able to get past him to injure her in any way.

“Please, don’t worry about it,” he pleaded, drawing her back into his arms and she didn’t hesitate to cuddle against him again.

He knew she was a loving person. The sacrifices she’d made for her friends were proof of that. He’d witnessed the affection the Gryffindor trio shared from afar for years. If he was honest he had envied it. Because he hadn’t had a lot of affection in his life. It seemed as if he did now but he hadn’t dared hope for this level of it from her so soon. She could ruin him, but she could just as easily make him happier than he’d known it was possible to be.

“I missed you,” he admitted quietly, willingly displaying a vulnerability he never had to another soul before.

“Me too. It’s weird isn’t it? I mean we don’t know each other very well but all of a sudden it’s hard to be away from you.”

“That’s kind of how this works. Why would we want to be apart when it feels so good to be together? And we’ve known each other since we were 11, that’s nearly half our lives, I’d say we know each other pretty well,” he said as he concentrated on smoothing her hair out of her face.

“No, that’s different,” she disagreed, “we’ve been around each other a lot, and I feel like I know a lot of things about you from observation, but I don’t really know you.”

He frowned at her in confusion.

“For instance, I know you’re a good flier and that you played seeker at Hogwarts. But I don’t know if that’s because you’re quidditch mad like Ron, or if it’s more about being on a broomstick like Harry, or maybe somewhere in between. Merlin!” she screwed her eyes shut and shook her head vigorously like she was trying to throw something off, he had to twist out of the way of all that wild hair as it whipped around him, “I’ve really spent too much time with teenaged boys that quidditch was the first example I thought of.”

He chuckled at her apparent disgust with herself and noted that that probably told him something about how she felt about quidditch. He knew she’d been quite faithful in her attendance at matches while they’d been at school but he assumed that had been more for her friends’ sake than her own.

“Okay, here’s a better one,” she continued, oblivious to his thoughts, “I know you’re smart, I know your best class was potions; but I don’t know if that’s because it was your favorite, or if you just have a natural talent for it. For that matter I don’t know if you enjoyed school in general or you were just a dedicated student.”

“Why don’t we sit down and I’ll tell you?” he suggested, amused and encouraged by her apparent enthusiasm.

“Okay,” she agreed, leading him over to her sofa, “but I want to talk about something else first.”

“What’s that?” he asked agreeably, seating himself and pulling her back into his arms, but she wriggled out of his grasp and turned so that she was sitting cross-legged and facing him.

“I spoke with Andromeda about this,” she gestured between the two of them.

“My aunt?” he asked in surprise.

He hadn’t been aware that she and Hermione were acquainted. Granted, he really knew very little about the woman who had been disowned by his family for marrying a muggleborn. He wondered absentmindedly if that would be his fate as well; not that he could be thrown out of the Black family, he was Lord Black now, but his father could certainly disown him, though that would leave him without an heir. He wasn't distracted enough not to notice the way she bit her lip nervously and he had to resist the urge to reach over and extract it.

“I’m sorry, I realize now that I probably should have asked your permission, but I really needed a sounding board and Andromeda has always given me very good advice. I thought she’d able to be more objective than most people, despite her relation to you, she’s extremely fair-minded. Plus, you told me that the veela heritage is on your mother’s side of the family so I realized that she would probably already have a lot more information than almost anybody else. She was the one who told me to trust myself: my magic and my heart.”

He was okay with anything that had helped Hermione come around, hell, he'd have to send the woman a gift for giving his mate such good advice.

“It’s okay,” he assured her, “if you trust her, I trust you.”

It was a completely uncharacteristic statement and a testament to how this new connection with Hermione had changed him. Especially given that he couldn’t even find it in himself to care that he sounded like a Gryffindor.

“Well, she pointed out to me that all of this is more difficult for me to wrap my head around because I’m muggleborn. I didn’t grow up depending on magic the way you did, so I don’t trust it unquestioningly like you do. It’s hard for me to accept that we are meant to be together just because our magic is drawing us together, whereas you just do it automatically. Also, you have the advantage of having been told stories about veela and their mates your whole life, it's all new to me.”

She was right, they had vastly different perspectives. But the thought that her different perspective might affect how she interpreted his revelations had not even occurred to him. Though now that she’d said it, it seemed obvious. He was glad she'd had his aunt, who was uniquely qualified to understand both of their perspectives, to talk her through it.

“So, she had a suggestion that I really liked. She said that we should try dating so that we can get to know each other in a more traditional manner. And I have a caveat that I’d like to add as well. I’d like to keep our relationship quiet for awhile, when the time comes I want to be able to explain it to my friends beyond ‘he’s a veela, I’m his mate, ta-da we’re together!’” she explained, waving her hands around like a madwoman, “I want to know you by then and be able to tell them what it is that I like about you.”

He was baffled by her crazy gesticulations and for a moment he felt doubtful. When he’d discovered he was a veela he’d been thrilled at the idea that he could avoid the tedious and complicated courtship rituals he usually would have had to undertake as a pureblood and scion of two prominent families. But when he thought about it he realized that she didn’t care about those rituals, she just wanted to be courted and the silly witch was nervous to ask him to do so! He also momentarily bristled at the idea of keeping them a secret, but then it occurred to him that secrecy meant he would get to keep her to himself before the idiots she associated with could try and interfere. And that sounded just about perfect.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Hermione felt like she was going to chew through her lip waiting for him to respond. He had stepped through the floo and she had been unable to resist stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him. And then she hadn’t wanted to let go. The luxurious feel of his wool robes against her cheek, his sharp clean scent, his strong arms enveloping her; it made it difficult to remember why she'd been so afraid. And he had been great, teasing her through her stumbling apology, making her feel so completely comfortable. She was beginning to wonder if she deserved him. It had been made very clear to her in the past that she was pants at relationships.

Now she was asking even more of him, was it too much? She didn’t want him to think that she was ashamed of him, she never would have told Andromeda, a woman she respected and admired above all others, about him if she had been. She just wanted to keep him to herself for a little while so that they could have the opportunity to figure themselves out as a couple before they were subject to public scrutiny.

Once again she felt unnerved by the amount of influence he suddenly had on her. She craved his good opinion. She hated the idea of hurting his feelings. So it was a good thing when, seemingly out of nowhere, he raised his head and smiled at her. Good Godric, but he was beautiful. And apparently he was hers. She wondered how long it would take for her to get used to that.

“Okay, Princess, anything you want,” he smirked, “it would be my honor to court you, and I don't mind keeping our relationship quiet for the time being, as long as I get to see you I'll be content.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Princess?” she asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

That only made his smirk grow.

“Yes,” he said simply.

She decided not to argue, she had a feeling he would only dig his heels in, she also had a feeling that as much as they may be destined to be together he was still going to drive her crazy.

“Anything I want,” she wheedled, realizing there was something she very much wanted at the moment, she'd had so many questions about his transformation, she was desperate to see it for herself.

“Oh yes,” he practically purred, “after all I am designed to please you.”

She felt herself growing hot at his innuendo and knew that she was bright red. She had very little experience with physical intimacy and hoped he didn’t expect them to fall right into that aspect of their relationship. She shook the thought away and looked back to him. He chuckled darkly and gave her a knowing look, her thoughts must have been written all over her face.

“You don't have to be so nervous around me, you know,” he said, switching rapidly from amused to concerned.

She squirmed uncomfortably before deciding to be starkly honest with him, she raised her chin and squared her shoulders.

“I don't have a lot of experience sexually. None, as a matter of fact. And I just don't know what you expect from me. I'm not sure I'll be ready anytime soon,” she confessed, shooting him a look that dared him to challenge her.

But his eyes just softened.

“Oh don't worry about that, I have no expectations, I certainly would never rush you into anything, I just want to be with you,” he said, as if it was no matter, “And as much as I enjoyed teasing and making you blush just now, if it makes you uncomfortable I'll stop.”

“No,” she said abruptly, “I don't mind teasing, I just didn't want there to be any misunderstandings,” she didn't want him to hold himself back around her, she liked his easy banter.

He nodded.

“It's not like I have any experience either, I'm not in any rush,” he said completely nonchalantly.

She blinked at him uncomprehendingly. Had he just confessed to being a virgin? Not that there was anything wrong with that, but she knew that at their age it was considered more than a little odd, and she just hadn't expected to hear that from a good looking, sought after wizard like Draco. She'd heard the girls at school talk about him from the time they were only twelve or thirteen, he had been quite the heartthrob. And she was well acquainted with teenaged boys, they were not known for turning down opportunities for sexual exploration. Opportunities she was sure Draco had been presented with in droves.

“Is this another veela thing?” she wondered.

“Yes,” he said simply, “I always knew I was attracted to women, and I even tried snogging a few, but never enjoyed it enough to want to repeat the experience with the same witch, or take it any further. Even before I was capable of finding you, you were still the only one I was ever going to want,” he shrugged, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“You didn't feel like you were missing out?”

She knew of entire relationships that had been predicated on one or both parties not wanting to be left behind their peers; Ron’s with Lavender Brown during their sixth year came to mind.

“Not at all,” he said easily.

“Was it the same for me?” she asked, “I mean was there something keeping me from wanting to be with other men because I'm your mate?”

He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“That I don't know for sure, all of my ancestors’ journals are centuries old. As I'm sure you know a woman’s virtue was guarded quite assiduously back then, so either their mates simply didn't have any contact with other men, or if they did, they omitted that information to protect their reputations for posterity. So I don’t have any information about that. But my hunch says that yes, because of our connection there was something telling you that there was something not quite right with other men. It wouldn't make much sense if you had tied yourself to somebody else before I even had a chance to find you, the magic would want to prevent that, don't you agree?”

Hermione nodded, she actually had a lot more questions on the subject, but she was not yet comfortable enough to have an in depth discussion with him about sex, and she certainly wasn’t ready for, nor did she think his temper could handle, an explanation of the events which led to Ronald Weasley believing she was a prude when she knew very well that she was not. Her body worked just fine, her desires were present, he had been the problem. It meshed perfectly with what Draco had just told her.

“Well, when you write your own journal you can include in it that even contemplating any kind of intimacy with another man feels like ‘eww’ to a veela mate,” she said simply.

He sat there staring at her for a long moment and then he threw his head back and laughed.

“‘Eww,’ it feels like ‘eww?!” he choked out, “how descriptive Miss Granger.”

“It’s accurate and concise,” she said primly.

He stopped laughing and looked at her carefully.

“I would apologize for that, but it would be a lie. I am sorry for any problems that feeling may have caused you, however.”

She just nodded, she wasn’t sorry her instincts had been guiding her away from the wrong men either. If her reaction had been less extreme she feared she would have given in to Ron and then come to regret it.

“I didn’t mean just that though Hermione. You were so nervous before, to ask me about courting you. I want you to be comfortable asking for things. I do want to please you, in every way. I have vaults full of gold and an international corporation at my disposal to get you anything you could possibly want. You truly only have to ask.”

She shook her head vigorously.

“That’s not why I’m here though, I’m here for you, I don’t need things from you.”

“But if you do, please tell me. Whether it’s something material or a request, I want you to be comfortable. And in the meantime I’ll just have to spoil you myself.”

She huffed.

“But before, it sounded like maybe there was something you did want?” he cajoled.

Well, at least it wasn’t something that required vaults full of gold.

“I want to see you transform,” she said shyly, biting her lip again and bouncing a little on the sofa cushions in anticipation.

“Oh you do?” he said, his voice deep and warm.

“Draco,” she chided impatiently.

His teasing gaze softened immediately.

“I like that,” he confessed breathlessly.

She cocked her head in question.

“You said my name,” he said simply.

“Oh,” she supposed she had, she hadn’t even realized, “it would be a bit odd for me to continue calling you ‘Malfoy,’” she pointed out.

He nodded and his pupils dilated.

“Especially because I fully intend that one day you will be a Malfoy too,” he said huskily.

Her eyes widened. She’d yet to think of it in quite that way. Weren’t men supposed to be coy about making those sort of promises? Not, she supposed, veela men.

“Oh,” she heard herself murmur.

He suddenly looked very concerned.

“That probably bothers you, doesn’t it?” he asked quietly, reaching over and covering her hands with one of his much larger ones.

Suddenly she was bathed in that beautiful warmth. She’d been enjoying just being in his company, but this was so much better. She sighed in pleasure.

“It will just take some getting used to,” she said.

She secretly thought that if she continued to feel like this when he touched her then she would willingly get used to anything, but she would never tell him that. She could only marvel at how it might feel when more of their skin was in contact.

“I’d like to make my name into something to be proud of, I would be extremely honored if you would help me with that,” he confessed quietly.

She just swallowed thickly, unable to answer, it was simply to much to think about at the moment.

“The transformation?” she encouraged, both to change the subject and because she really was anxious to see.

He winked at her, apparently unperturbed, as he stood up. She really did envy his ease through all of this, she felt like such a mess in comparison.

“What are you doing!” she hissed in a slight panic, when he started unbuttoning his robes.

He let out yet another dark chuckle and she wondered if she would ever get used to the eroticism of that sound.

“I have to take these and my shirt off if I don’t want them to get ruined,” he explained.

He removed the shirt to reveal a pale, sculpted chest and abdomen which she barely refrained from reaching out and touching. He had scars, just like she did, some she couldn’t identify, some she knew were from Harry’s sectumsempra, and then there was that terrible blemish on his forearm of the faded Dark Mark; none of them detracted a bit from his unearthly beauty. Suddenly his body began to shimmer in front of her eyes and then he was standing before her looking like some kind of angel come to earth. Huge wings with feathers the same color as his distinctive hair peeked out from behind his back and she estimated that if he stretched them out he would have at least a 10 foot wingspan, and they were beautiful. His ears had changed shape, they now looked almost elfin in nature, his pupils had become slits inside of irises the color of liquid mercury, his canines had lengthened, and she would swear he actually glowed. Something told her that to anybody else he would look dangerous, but sitting before him as he loomed over her she knew she’d never been safer in her life, and would only be even safer in his arms. She could never fear him, she was only in danger of throwing herself at him.

“Oh Draco,” she gasped, covering her gaping mouth with her hand, “you are so beautiful.”

She couldn’t resist any longer, she stood up and put her hands on his chest. She looked up at him and realized that he was staring at her like he’d never seen her before.

“Look who’s talking,” he said with reverence, “I’ve known for a long time that you’d become a beautiful woman, but this,” he brought his hands up to gently cup her face, “you’re the most exquisite creature I’ve ever seen. Forget princess, you are a goddess. Aphrodite come to life in front of me. Though,” his lip quirked in amusement, “Athena would actually be more appropriate for you,” he leaned forward and nuzzled her forehead.

She gave a small snort of disbelief.

“Don’t malign my mate,” he growled and she bit back a small whimper at how sexy he sounded, “my sight is so much better in this form, I can see you so clearly,” he explained, voice full of wonder, “my very own brilliant, beautiful, bright-eyed, benevolent goddess.”

“I’m not a possession,” she asserted, trying to sound petulant and failing miserably as she figuratively melted into his arms.

“Of course you’re not, who could hope to own such a being, Hermione?” her name was a prayer on his lips, “you are incandescent, your magic is so powerful, so electrifying, I can actually see it. It’s extraordinary, you’re…gold. And your eyes practically glow, how have I never seen what a gorgeous cinnamon they are? And your hair,” he actually gasped, “it’s like it has a life of it’s own in the wildest most sensual way.”

“Is that what I see around you, your magic? It shimmers, it seems almost silver.”

“Is that what you see?” he wondered with a chuckle, “how fitting.”

She could only smile and nod at him in return, it was a fitting representation of not just their house loyalties but their personalities as well; she was all warmth and vibrance, he steely strength and reserve.

“May I touch?” she asked politely, reaching out towards his wings, dying to feel them against her fingertips.

“Please,” he urged.

He shivered when she began stroking them and closed his eyes. They felt every bit as wonderful as she had imagined, downy soft but fundamentally strong. Merlin, but this was surreal. Was this really happening? Was he standing before her in her living room, a veela, her veela, having offered her everything he had and was? For the first time she felt more excitement than fear at that heady thought, because despite the surreal nature of the situation, there was also something that felt completely right about it. Maybe everything she'd never known she had always been waiting for was standing in front of her. She took a deep breath.

“You can fly,” she observed obviously with a wry grin.

“You are, by far, the best thing about all of this. But after that, being able to fly without a broomstick is pretty great,” he remarked with an easy grin she’d never seen before.

Her heart rate picked up at the sight, but instead of retreating she settled against his chest, instinctively seeking out the safety to be found there. He wrapped her in his embrace further encapsulating her with his wings, it was the most glorious sensation. There was a part of her that was screaming at her that she was becoming far too comfortable with him far too soon. She knew that part of her was her much vaunted brain. But she had taken Andromeda’s word seriously, so she ignored it in favor of her oft overlooked heart.

“I could get used to this,” she spoke into his warm skin.

“I already have,” he sighed in return.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

They eventually pulled apart and he transformed back into his normal body. He reluctantly put his shirt back on, even though he adored the way she kept sneaking glances at his bare chest and blushing. But he sensed the moment had passed and his half-dressed state was making her increasingly uncomfortable. He was rewarded when she asked him to stay for dinner and the emotion he felt when she did, well he thought it would be described as giddy. He didn’t know, he’d never felt it before, and even in his current besotted state would never admit to something so undignified. Nevertheless, he wasted no time in taking her up on her offer. She wandered into her kitchen and he followed her, curious about her muggle flat.

The first thing he spotted when he entered the room was a large metal bowl sitting next to the sink, but it had holes all over it. That didn't seem very useful. He looked over to Hermione who was rummaging around in a drawer, oblivious to his scrutiny.

“My queen,” he crooned.

“Hmmm?” she answered absentmindedly, not turning away from whatever she was doing.

“What is this?”

She turned around slowly and he pointed to the seemingly useless bowl contraption.

“The holes seem like they would defeat the purpose,” he clarified.

Her face morphed into an expression of pure amusement.

“It’s called a colander, it’s for draining- wait,” she interrupted herself, “what did you just call me?”

The disbelief in her voice was comical. He resisted the urge to smirk and continued to peer at her innocently.

“My queen?” he questioned, “I could tell you didn't like ‘princess’ and you're right, of course, you are no mere princess, you shall be my queen.”

He bowed grandly and when he turned his eyes back to her she was actually gaping, open mouthed at him.

“Unless of course you prefer ‘goddess divine,’ I was quite serious about that, I just thought it was a bit of a mouthful. Then again your actual name is four syllables long as well, so maybe there's some symmetry there…” he mused.

“Malfoy!” she interrupted sharply.

He couldn't even be upset about her use of his surname, she was so easily riled, it was fantastic.

“Yes?” he questioned as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

“No pet names, okay? At least not any that make me sound like a member of the royal family or, Godric forbid, a deity,” she practically shuddered when she said the last word.

“Why ever not?” he asked cluelessly.

“Because it's absurd! What will people say? I'm not either of those things!”

“Who cares what people say?” he snorted, “as far as I'm concerned nobody outside of this room matters.”

“I just don't need you to treat me like that. It's not necessary, I'm just me. This isn't a fairy tale.”

He refrained from reminding her that they actually were in some of the fairy tales from his childhood, or they could be, if she would just go with it. And he didn't really care about the pet names, he'd been purposefully baiting her and he'd found her incredulous reaction endlessly amusing. But now he was beginning to feel annoyed at the fact that she refused to recognize how special she was.

“Hermione,” he stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, “you hold an Order of Merlin, First Class; I know your N.E.W.T. scores broke records; you are a veela’s mate; and if it's the last thing I do I will make you a Malfoy, which means that eventually you will be the Lady of not one, but two Ancient and Noble Houses. You are elite in every way, the only thing keeping you from being royalty is that magical Europe no longer has kingdoms, you are certainly as exceptional as any queen and that's how I intend to treat you. So, quit acting like you’re not special, I find I insulting.”

She was gaping at him again, it was less attractive this time. She took a step back and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger as she let out an annoyed sigh.

“You are an unapologetic snob and I can't even be mad because I told you that I wanted you to be you, but it is infuriating.”

He shrugged.

“I'm special too, I've always known that. I may have been partially misguided about why that was in my youth, but I wasn't wrong,” he responded with confidence, he was a veela for Salazar’s sake, that was the definition of extraordinary.

He crossed his arms over his chest defiantly.

“This feeling of wanting to kiss you and kill you at the same time is very annoying,” she huffed.

He puffed up a bit, she still wanted to kiss him.

“Well you know which one I would prefer, my dove,” he said, feeling very daring as he stepped back into her space.

She growled at him, which was about as intimidating as a kitten’s purr, but he opted not to push his luck and try to touch her.

“Do you cook?” he changed the subject, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, she may have been small but he knew very well that she packed a punch.

That’s what people without elves did, wasn’t it, cooked? He could only assume that's why she'd come in the kitchen in the first place. Oh, she had that thing about elves, didn’t she? That could be a problem. He wouldn’t, couldn’t free Effie, it would break her heart and he would miss her terribly.

“I won’t subject you to my culinary experiments,” she said, turning shy in an instant, “will that be a problem?” she asked.

He just looked at her stupidly, he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Will what be a problem?”

“That I can’t really cook, I mean I can do a few things, I keep myself fed…”

He stared at her as she began to ramble about her lack of skills in the kitchen, (the kitchen of all places!) why would he possibly care about that? It had just been a simple question, he hadn't meant anything by it. All he knew was that this was obviously a sensitive subject.

“Hermione,” he eventually interrupted, unable to continue watching her work herself into a tizzy, “I can see that you’re upset, but I just don’t understand why. I couldn’t care less that you don’t cook.”

She looked away from him, blushing furiously. What in the world was going on?

“Ronald thought it was a rather indispensable skill for a woman to possess, and I know it’s probably different because you have elves but…” she trailed off and shrugged helplessly, still not looking at him.

Of course, the stupid Weasel. He couldn’t help it, he snorted out loud. He had a feeling his greatest challenge for the rest of his life would be not killing the moron. Unfortunately, that would upset his mate. On the other hand, at least she didn’t sound upset about the idea of his having elves. Still, he knew he had to handle this delicately. Ridiculous as it was, her confidence had obviously taken a hit over this issue.

"Hermione, do you think my mother cooks? In fact, I’m fairly sure I don’t know any witches who do. And yes, all the witches I know have elves, but even if they didn’t I fail to see why that chore should fall to them. Come to think of it, most of the chefs of my acquaintance are wizards,” he shrugged nonchalantly, trying to convey how very little he cared about this issue.

“I’m probably being silly.”

She was biting her lip and now seemed to be actively avoiding meeting his eyes. He closed the distance between them, put a finger under her chin and turned her face towards him.

“Listen, I don’t know what happened between you and Weasley but he had no right to make you feel this… small over anything. But I do think I've witnessed enough over the years to be confident in saying that he seriously struggles with self esteem issues and that he puts you down to make himself feel better. What I’ve never understood is why you let him. He can’t hold a candle to you,” he said fervently, “and I'm not saying that because of all the bad blood between our families, this is objective observation. You were this bright shining academic star, Potter was the Chosen One, he came off as a dim side-kick and he knew it, that's what made it so easy to torment him."

“You were paying attention,” she observed quietly, “I probably should have realized that after the ‘Weasley is Our King’ incident, that was the perfect way to get under his skin.”

He rolled his eyes to himself, that had been a rather petty move, and it had backfired spectacularly.

“The three of you garnered a lot of it,” was all he admitted, “And, yes, for various reasons I watched you closely. I could never get past how callously he could treat somebody he claimed was a friend.”

“And that excused your behavior? It was okay to treat me cruelly because we weren't friends,” she spat bitterly.

He nearly recoiled from her, shocked by the sudden change of subject and the acidity of her tone. He was at least relieved she'd stopped acting so cowed. And he could admit that he had many, many things to apologize for, he may as well get started.

“You’re right,” he acknowledged, “I was horrible to you. I was a spoiled bigoted little prat. I can say that at first I truly didn’t know better, but later I did and I was still cruel to you. For that I unreservedly apologize. However, now that you’re mine I will never take that fact for granted. I will do everything in my power to make you happy and protect you. Both from outside sources and from myself. I am aware that I have a temper, I know it’s unrealistic to say that I will never lose it with you, but I will do my best to shield you from it and to keep from hurting you.”

“That's what bothers me about this,” she blurted suddenly, at a much higher volume than she'd been speaking, “if it hadn't been for this veela thing, would you ever have been attracted to me?”

He snorted, again unable to help himself.

“I was attracted to you long before this ‘veela thing,’ as you call it, was truly a factor.”

She just cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.

“You are a muggleborn so my upbringing told me that I couldn't have you. That didn't mean I didn't have eyes. You were pretty, smart, powerful, and wickedly clever; of course I was attracted to you. I was drawn to you from the beginning and after the Yule Ball I couldn’t even pretend that I didn't want you.”

She stared at him with wide, surprised eyes.

“But wanting you was dangerous,” he continued, “my father finding out was frightening enough, that was nothing compared to what my aunt or the Dark Lord would have done. So I made sure to keep you far, far away to protect myself.”

“And after the war?”

“Without the push that being my mate gave me, I’m not sure I ever would have had the courage to approach you romantically. I am not a Gryffindor, my family is still important to me, no matter how far they've fallen. I’m not sure I would have been able to set aside my duty for what I thought was a mere inclination. Now I know it isn't a mere anything, we are worth fighting for and if I must, that's what I'll do. You know that I already admired you enough to approach you on friendly terms. That was a big step for me.”

She sighed heavily.

“I'm sorry, this magical connection business is going to take some getting used to, it's really thrown me through a loop. You must be hating that you’ve been saddled with somebody of my heritage,” she groused, “I'm sure this would be so much easier with a pureblood, or just somebody sensible enough to accept how lucky they are to be a veela’s mate.”

“Don’t denigrate your heritage,” he snapped, “I can’t claim to know much about muggles but I know that two of them produced you, so that’s pretty impressive.”

In truth he’d learned a hundred times more about muggles in the past weeks than he had during the previous twenty years of his life. And what he’d seen and been told had impressed him greatly (apparently they had the capability to visit the moon, the bloody MOON!) They were nothing like what he’d been led to believe. Clever enough to work around their lack of magic and still thrive, frankly he was intrigued and was anxious to learn more. She just continued to stare at him with those wide, beautiful eyes. Shocked at first, they melted into an expression of such gratefulness that Draco felt his heart clench.

And then she stepped into him, burying her head against his chest and encircling her arms around his waist once again. He took her into his own arms and nuzzled his face in the glorious, riotous curls that he’d once been foolish enough to make fun of. This discussion was far from over, they'd touched on several issues that needed to be flushed out, like what in the world had happened between his mate and Weasley. But he sensed that this was not the time, her emotions were all over the place, she needed a distraction. He hesitated over his next question.

“Would you like for me to call Effie? She’s my personal elf. I don’t know if she could cook her way in your kitchen but she could certainly bring us something from home, anything you want actually.”

“You treat her well, don’t you?” she asked.

Her voice, once again, had that small, timid quality, but at least the question sounded more like a confirmation of what she already believed than anything else.

“Effie is very dear to me, I consider her family and would never allow anyone to harm her,” he said firmly, and then he remembered with shame Hermione’s acquaintance with another Malfoy elf, “or for her to harm herself,” he clarified.

Apparently it was exactly the right thing to say, she pulled her head away from his chest and smile beatifically at him.

“I would like to meet her soon. But for tonight I was thinking take away, I was just looking for menus,” she gestured vaguely around the kitchen, “Have you ever had it?” she asked him impishly.

He blinked, nonplussed for a moment by her sudden return to her normal, confident demeanor. Yes, he’d been right to put the heavy topics aside for the moment.

“Considering that I’ve never heard of it, I think I can safely say that I’ve never had it.”

“Well, what kind of food do you like?”

He frowned at her in confusion.

“French, Italian, Chinese, Thai?” she prompted.

Was she seriously suggesting they somehow had access to such diverse cuisine from here in London? She must have seen something in his expression because her’s became downright mischievous.

“Oh Draco Malfoy, you and I are going to have fun,” she promised with a smile that was nearly lecherous.

He couldn’t disagree with that.

“Hey, you never told me what that bowl covered in holes was for.”

She tilted her head back so that she could look at him and burst out laughing.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Hermione placed an order for the Italian food he requested (she had a feeling she had some work to do before he was willing to try something more exotic) and tried to pull herself together while his attention was otherwise occupied by the photographs that lined the many bookcases of her flat. She was deeply embarrassed by her earlier display of insecurity and then the way her temper had so quickly turned on him. She was also unnerved by the aplomb with which he’d handled the situation. She was rapidly beginning to feel like she was more than in over her head.

She hadn’t realized he’d had the ability to unnerve her so completely, or that she would so easily become vulnerable in his presence. She especially didn’t think he would react so maturely. Godric, he’d even refrained from calling Ron any names. That must have taken some Herculean self control. And then she'd snapped at him, railed at him for his treatment of her at Hogwarts, but he'd remained calm, and apologized. He didn't try and excuse his behavior, he didn't mock her for her mood swings. She was impressed, she felt cared for, and ashamed at how much she seemed to have underestimated him. It was time to do away with her image of him as that nasty boy from school, the same image she was using to hold herself apart from him. 

Draco was obviously impressed by the food she ordered, both by the quality and how quickly it arrived all neatly packaged, hot, and ready to eat. (‘I don't understand how muggles can be so efficient without magic, it's remarkable,’ he’d quipped.) She allowed herself to feel smug that she'd introduced him to something so thoroughly normal in the muggle world, but that to him probably felt like a revelation. It was a small thing, but she'd done something right tonight. 

“So you never answered my questions,” she said as they settled down to eat. 

“What questions?” he asked.

“The ones from earlier, you know, when I was explaining how we don't actually know each other very well?” she reminded him. 

“Oh, right, what were they again? I've forgotten.”

“Do you prefer quidditch or flying? Or do you like quidditch for the flying? And then I wanted to know if you enjoyed school or if you just happened to be good at it, and the same question with potions specifically,” she reiterated. 

He chewed thoughtfully, very careful to swallow before he opened his mouth to respond, unlike some people she knew. (Oh no, she was comparing him to Ron again, that had to stop.)

“Well, honestly I think of quidditch and flying as two different interests. Though, part of why I like quidditch is because it's played on a broom. But I enjoy them for two different reasons, quidditch for the strategy and competition and flying for the freedom and the speed. So, I guess it depends on what kind of mood I’m in, in terms of which I enjoy most. From what you said earlier I take it you don't enjoy quidditch?” he deduced. 

“I don't really like playing quidditch, though I seem to get wrangled into it often enough. But it can be fun to watch, especially when my friends are playing because then I have a vested interest in the game. But I hate flying.” 

He looked at her like she'd sprouted a second head. 

“How can anyone hate flying? It’s amazing,” he sounded absolutely incredulous. 

“I suppose I should be more specific and say that I hate flying on broomsticks.” 

After all, she didn't mind muggle airplanes, and under different, less life threatening circumstances her various rides on the backs of magical creatures could have been rather thrilling. He was still looking at her like she was crazy.

“Well look at it from my point of view,” she defended, “in our first and only flying lesson Neville broke his wrist and then you led Harry on that merry chase for his remembrall. At the time I was fully convinced that you were both going to die right in front of me. And that was my first exposure to broomsticks,” she pointed at him accusingly. “Then, during Harry’s first quidditch match his broom was jinxed, and he nearly fell off and died. In third year the dementors swarmed one of his games and he did fall off his broom, and if Dumbledore hadn't been there to slow his fall he would have died, “she took a dramatic breath, “Fourth year he decided it was a good idea to try and outfly a dragon for Godric’s sake, and he very nearly got roasted and gave me a heart attack in the process. I could go on,” she looked at him daringly.

He stared at her for a few moments and then slowly smirked.

“So what I'm hearing,” he drawled, his eyes twinkling mischievously, “is that this is entirely Potter’s fault.”

She reached across the table and whacked him on the arm.

“Don't worry, love, we’ll fix this,” he said with complete assurance.

She rolled her eyes theatrically at that display of ego.

“Practically everybody I know has tried, it's no use, I just can't get comfortable,” she informed him, fairly sure it wouldn't make any difference. 

“I'll make you comfortable,” he said without hesitation, totally confident. 

Not in the mood for this back and forth, she ignored him. Maybe she'd even let him try to teach her to fly and he could see for himself how useless it was. 

“What about school?” she prompted him to answer her second question. 

He gave her a knowing smirk at the sudden subject change, but he answered her without argument. 

“I enjoyed school, for the most part. Potions was my favorite subject, and I was proud that I was so good at it. But there were others I really liked too, charms and astronomy especially; astronomy reminds me of my mother, she's been teaching me about the stars since I can remember.” 

She smiled at the soft tone of his voice, those were obviously good memories. 

“Because of the tradition in her family, naming children after stars?” she asked curiously. 

He looked at her in obvious surprise. She laughed. 

“Yes Draco,” she said his own constellation name pointedly, “you forget that Order headquarters was located in a house that belonged to the Black family. There's a giant family tapestry on the library wall, it would have been impossible for me not to notice the pattern, but I asked Sirius and he confirmed it.” 

When she thought of Sirius she started to giggle.

“What?” he wondered. 

“I was just remembering Sirius and how much he hated the family motto, ‘Toujours Pur,’” she recited the phrase mockingly, “and I can just imagine him up there somewhere laughing his arse off right now that the two of us are together. I mean if we stay together…” she trailed off, suddenly shy.

He smiled at her.

“You’ll be the first non-pureblood Lady Black,” he provided.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, looking away from his adoring gaze. 

He must have sensed that she was not ready to go there yet because he graciously changed the subject.

“I don’t think I need to ask whether you liked school or not.”

She chuckled.

“I guess it was pretty obvious.”

“What was your favorite subject?”

“Arithmancy,” she answered immediately, “it’s so fascinating: predictive modeling, spell creation, warding schemes. I love performing magic but there’s just something addicting to me about trying to understand it,” she fairly gushed.

He smiled at her, his face as soft and open as she'd ever seen it. It was a heady thing to be in the receiving end of such open admiration, especially from somebody so beautiful.

“Okay, I have one,” he said, “what’s your favorite color?”

“It changes with my mood, and as I’ve gotten older, but I’ve always favored purple,” she smirked at him, “What’s yours? Let me guess,” she paused dramatically, “green?”

He shook his head.

“Black?” she tried again, eyeing his shirt and then his robes, which were still folded over the back of her sofa, pointedly to indicate the rather monochromatic nature of his wardrobe.

He shook his head again, looking amused. 

“Actually it’s blue, blue has always been associated with House Malfoy, so I grew up thinking it was the best of all colors, even above Slytherin green,” he explained. 

It was kind of a sweet answer, which displayed his pride in his family, even despite her own reservations about that family. But it brought Hermione up short, reminded her of something they needed to discuss. She pushed her empty plate away from her nervously. 

“Actually there’s something that I need to say, something that needs to be on the table right from the beginning.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, looking concerned. 

“I was thinking about us and where our relationship might ultimately lead. I know there are certain expectations that come with being with a man of your position and most of them I understand, but I don't think I could ever live at Malfoy Manor. I know it's traditional to reside in your ancestral home, but I just don't see myself ever being comfortable enough to actually live there,” she explained very quickly and braced herself for his reaction.

When it came it was not at all what she expected. He pushed his own plate away and reached across the table to take her hand. She instantly felt better. 

“Oh, oh no Hermione, I would never ask you to do that. It never even occurred to me, I can hardly stand to be there myself most of the time,” he squeezed her hand and encouraged her to look at him, there was sincerity written all over his face, “please don't give it another thought,” he took a deep breath, “but I do want to apologize for what happened to you there. I'm so damned sorry that I didn't do anything to help you. I'm sorry for being on the wrong side of the war. Sorry for ever thinking you were in any way inferior to me. I can only hope that in time, I can earn your forgiveness,” he said, his tone soft and sincere. 

Her heart went out him. Truth be told she’d forgiven him already, even if she hadn't been quite ready to forget his behavior. It started on that awful night when they'd been taken to Malfoy Manor and he’d refused to identify them, and then she'd seen the agony on his face as she'd been tortured; she'd remembered how terrible he'd looked throughout their sixth year, broken and terrified; and once she’d begun to understand that in many ways he had just been a victim of circumstance, she also began to let go of her animosity for him. It was complete once he approached her respectfully, began to befriend her, and he showed her through his actions that he was not the boy he had been and had bravely let go of his prejudices. Still, it was nice to hear the words. 

“Thank you for saying that. I accept your apology, but you should know that you’ve been forgiven for awhile.”

Draco just looked at her steadily, almost like he was looking through her.

“You’re not a legilimens, are you?” she asked uncertainly, unnerved that he wasn't saying anything. 

He laughed.

“Actually, I am, but I would never sneak into your mind,” he assured her.

“So you must be an occlumens too then!” she said enthusiastically, completely diverted from their serious talk by this interesting revelation. 

He nodded.

“Basic shields are commonly taught to pureblood children. A fortress for a mind was basically a requirement to survive being a Death Eater-at least one who was as on the fence about the cause as I was- luckily my mother is a natural.”

“Will you teach me?” she asked in an excited whisper.

He chuckled and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles.

“Merlin, but you love to learn, don't you?”

She felt her face grow hot but she just shrugged and nodded. He reached up with his free hand to caress one of her pinkened cheeks.

“You're even more beautiful when you’re excited like this. Your enthusiasm is just breathtaking,” he said in a voice that was just above a whisper, eyes locked with hers.

Her blush grew deeper and she tried to look away again but he wouldn't allow it. 

“I would be happy to teach you anything you like, my mate, including occlumency. In fact, I should have thought of that, if we are going to be together you are about to become even more of a target than you already are, it can only be beneficial for you to be able to hide your thoughts and mask your emotions.”

“Thanks Draco,” she answered breathily, excitement at the idea of learning a new skill mixed with the sound of him calling her ‘mate’ which affected her on a visceral level that she didn't quite understand.

He abruptly dropped her hand and stood up smoothly, rounding the table to stand beside her. He extended a hand and pulled her up to stand in front of him when she took it, drawing her right into his personal space. 

“I just want you to know that your forgiveness means the world to me, more than I could possibly express in words. So, may I try something?”

She could only nod. He tilted her chin and looked her right in the eyes, his were filled with an emotion that made her breath hitch, but she gave him another slight nod of permission, and he lowered his lips to hers. When they met light exploded behind her eyelids, she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, tunneling her fingers into his hair, and giving herself completely over to the kiss.

They stood there for a long time locked in an embrace that was both the sweetest and most passionate Hermione had ever experienced, simultaneously giving and taking, he grounded her and made her fly. It was the most honest and pure experience of her life. And she knew then that this was it. She understood how he could be so sure about them. Because there was something there, no longer just him or her, but them together, a living thing that was so incandescently beautiful that she would go blind before she turned away from it. It was a miracle, but it was real.

Their kisses slowed naturally and when they finally parted she rested her forehead against his chest, enveloped in his arms as he ran his hands up and down her back. As she stood there, safe in the arms of her mate, the image of a blond haired babe held gently between them flashed through her mind, and she smiled against his chest at the thought, but tucked it safely away in her heart to share with him later. This was more than enough for now. 

“Draco,” she sighed happily.

“I know, my love, I know,” he murmured in response, “I've got you.”

“I have you too,” she vowed.

He went completely still for a moment and then he buried his face in her hair and she knew he understood.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

He didn’t see her the next day, he’d been so preoccupied with her he’d let things pile up at work almost to the point of negligence. He had hundreds of people’s livelihoods in his hands and he took that seriously, so now that he had his concentration back he knew he needed to catch up with his responsibilities. He was at his office all day and through the evening. 

On top of that, he was doing his utmost not to overwhelm her and he had plans for Saturday that he knew she was going to consider to be a big deal. But he didn’t want to wait any longer to show her, she’d looked so concerned when she’d mentioned being expected to live in Malfoy Manor, he wanted to prove to her he’d never had any such intention.

He’d told her the truth, it had never occurred to him that she would ever live at the Manor. It wasn’t just because of what had happened to her there, though if that was the only issue it would have been plenty of reason to keep her away from the house of horrors his ancestral home had become. He was only still living there himself because he had seriously tried his father’s patience by taking off to France after the war. He didn’t care about that either, but it had upset his mother, so he’d returned to the Manor to smooth things over.

The moment he’d realized he was a Veela and that Hermione was his mate he’d begun exploring alternatives. He found the perfect solution in his ancestors’ journals in the form of a place that had been lost to time and the negligence of one of his more selfish relatives. He tracked it down and had begun feathering his nest, so to speak, in preparation for approaching his mate. His instincts told him she'd approve, he hoped they were right. He would soon find out. 

He stepped through her floo early Saturday morning only to be joyfully attacked by his love. She jumped into his arms, wrapped her legs around his waist, and kissed him enthusiastically. He chuckled into her mouth.

“Not that I’m complaining...at all, but is there a reason for this enthusiastic greeting. Did I do something to deserve it? Because if so I intend to repeat it over and over.”

She went to release him but he clasped her buttocks and held her in place. She gasped softly but didn’t fight him. She leaned back to look at him.

“You sent me a flower arrangement almost as big as I am to the ministry. Normally, I would have found such a display to be...over the top but, I don’t know, nobody’s ever done anything like that for me before. I just, thank you,” she caressed his head affectionately. 

His heart expanded and then contracted rapidly. How was this amazing woman brought to her knees by a simple flower arrangement? True, based on what he had ordered it probably had turned out to be nearly as big as she was, but she was tiny, so it's not like that was a big deal. 

“Where did you tell people it came from?” he asked curiously.

She smiled impishly at him.

“Why, I seem to have acquired a secret admirer, of course. There was no card, so I could truthfully say I didn't know who sent it,” she paused dramatically, “it was you, wasn’t it? If not I need to check out this secret admirer angle, see if I have a better option out there.”

He knew she was joking, at least he was pretty sure that she was. Still, the sudden stab of jealousy he felt was overwhelming. 

“Not funny Granger,” he growled. 

He walked over to her sofa and tossed her onto it and then crawled on top of her. Her eyes went wide but she eagerly responded when he covered her lips with his. She moaned when he moved to her neck, but then all of a sudden she began to giggle and frantically push him away. He pulled back to look at her. 

“Are you trying to give me a complex, witch?” he questioned with a playful growl, “first you imply that there are better options out there, and now you’re laughing at me while I'm trying to kiss you?”

She continued giggling.

“I’m sorry, but I’m ticklish,” she grinned up at him. 

Oh, she was going to regret so easily giving up that little jewel of information. 

“Ticklish, you say?” he asked with a playful leer.

And before she could realize what he was about to do, and try to make an escape, he was digging his fingers into her rib cage on either side. She actually squealed. She thrashed and squirmed and laughed; it was the most beautiful thing Draco had ever seen, his disheveled mate was an unexpected wonder.

“Please Draco, I feel like I’m going to die!” she wailed. 

He chuckled at her dramatics.

“Well when you put it like that,” he relented, “It would be a shame for you to die on me just when I’ve found you,” he said with mock-seriousness. 

He immediately stopped tickling her and ran soothing hands down her sides instead. She tried to glare at him but it melted into a grin.

“Don’t make a habit of that, I think pulled a muscle,” she rubbed her stomach pitifully. 

“I do apologize,” he said unrepentantly.

But he lifted her blouse and leaned over to kiss her abdomen in apology. He nuzzled her belly button and then lifted his head to see her watching him with hooded eyes. He shifted so that he was laying beside her, between her and the back of the sofa, and pulled her into his arms.

“Still thinking about your other options?” he teased. 

She sighed rather dramatically.

“Of course not, I don’t have any room left in my brain.”

“Really? Last I checked it was a rather large brain.”

“And you’ve filled it up!” she exclaimed frantically. 

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you!”

Well that was an interesting admission. He hid a grin of delight in her hair. It was good to get confirmation that he wasn’t the only one who was rather helpless in the face of this thing between them. 

“It's all your chest and your hands and your Merlin-be-damned lips!” she bemoaned.

She did seem to enjoy cuddling into his chest, and he understood being drawn to his lips, he was rather enthralled by hers, but what was this about his hands? That could prove intriguing. 

“My hands?” he queried innocently.

“Yes, you have beautiful hands,” she admitted in a rush, “I used to be captivated watching you brew, it was the only time I could tolerate you, when you shut your infuriating mouth and just worked. And now I keep picturing them all over my body.”

She stopped abruptly and hid her rapidly reddening face in his robes. Then she was suddenly beating his chest with one hand, she was rather violent, but she was so little it was like being beaten by a hummingbird's wings. Maybe, once upon a time she could have hurt him, but not any longer, at least not without a wand. Nevertheless he grabbed the offending hand to stop her. 

“What did I do to deserve that?”

“Draco Malfoy did you just use your allure on me?!” she shrieked, but the effect was rather dampened by the fact that she was still hiding her face against him.

“What?” he questioned with a laugh.

“Did you just use your allure to make me tell you that against my will,” she demanded, somehow managing to be a picture of self-righteous fury while also being cuddled into him like a lethargic kitten. 

He brushed his nose across her forehead.

“I couldn’t do that, even if I wanted to,” he said, “which I don’t, want to that is” he clarified, “that was all you, love.”

“What?” she she questioned in confusion. 

“I can’t use my allure against you, to bend you to my will or otherwise. It’s only a weapon against other people. To you it can only be used in enhancing your pleasure when we are intimate, heightening your senses and emotions, sharing what I’m feeling with you,” he explained with a hint of trepidation, given that he’d purposefully kept this from her. 

“Oh! Why didn’t you say so?”

“I got the impression you weren’t ready to talk about what was possible, in terms of intimacy between us, so I didn’t mention that nuance of my allure.”

“You’re probably right,” she admitted, toying with the buttons of his robes. 

“So my hands,” he said suggestively, “all over your body,” he drawled.

He placed one hand on her waist and purposefully spread his fingers so that they reached from the under swell of her breasts to her hipbone, they spanned the space easily. She molded herself even more completely against his body. 

“Yes,” she gasped.

“Any time you want, love,” he promised her huskily.

She groaned.

“Draco,” she said in warning.

He sighed.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to push, I just wanted you to know.”

They lay there quietly for a few moments.

“You know you’re not alone, right? It’s hard for me to think about anything but you too. Yesterday was the first day I’ve gotten in a full day’s work since the summer solstice, and I wake up aching for you every morning. I’m sorry if it’s interfering with your life, but I’ll never be sorry for what we have,” he confessed, his voice low and husky.

She shuddered against him.

“I’m not sorry either. I just worry.”

“Worry?” he questioned.

“I had lunch with Harry and Ron yesterday and I couldn’t concentrate on anything they were saying. I hadn’t seen them in a week but I still kept zoning out. It’s very unlike me. Between that and the flower arrangement I’m surprised I didn’t have to go straight to the Minister to keep them from opening an investigation on me!” 

Her tone was light and joking but something about her inflection told him that she was truly troubled. 

And that’s when something that had been quietly nagging at him stood up and demanded attention. Hermione had mentioned Weasley several times during their conversations, and it had never been in a particularly flattering light, sometimes to the point that Draco had been downright disconcerted by the prat’s apparent treatment of his friend. There had also been something off the few times she’d mentioned Potter, which he’d found even more alarming. The Weasel was a jealous, insecure arse, but he’d believed Hermione’s friendship with Potter to be solid. 

And then there were his own observations, they had been limited, but enough to be memorable. He’d thought they had been a product of his imagination at first, that he’d been looking for proof that his was not the only life that was irrevocably messed up by the war, and was simply trying to make himself feel better by believing that the most famous friendship in Britain might have been affected as well. But now he was starting to think he might not have been wrong about noticing that there had been a certain tension between the members of the Golden Trio during those times that he’d seen them interact. 

“Hermione,” he said hesitantly, “did something happen between you, Potter, and Weasley?”

She sighed wearily and there was something about the sound that confirmed his suspicions, he just wondered if she would be willing to confide in him. 

She was a force to be reckoned with, his mate. A bright star in the sky, more brilliant than even the sun, unrivaled by any others. He’d felt privileged just to be able to gaze upon her without going blind. But something miraculous had happened when he’d kissed her, something had shifted between them and she’d slowed just long enough to allow him into her orbit, and they’d begun to exist together as one system. At least, that’s how it had felt to him. She had certainly become softer, more open; her hesitation in speaking with him and touching him seemed to have evaporated in the space of a moment. 

Their few hours together after that had filled the empty well of his soul. But he knew that things were somewhat different for her. Her instincts were not as automatically attuned to him as his were to her, and perhaps he was overreaching in asking her to divulge details about relationships he was pretty sure she considered to be sacred. 

He stroked her hair and tried not to tense up as he waited for her to make a decision. She sighed heavily and repositioned herself against him, her chin resting on his chest so that she could look up at him.

“It wasn’t any one thing, more like a series of small things. We weren’t ready for life after the war, I’m not sure there’s any way to prepare for something like that,” she stopped and squeezed her eyes shut in obvious frustration, “no, I should just start from the beginning,” she said more to herself than to him. 

He awaited her patiently. She paused and physically shook herself like a dog, he had to stop from laughing at her antics. She was quite literally the first thing he had ever encountered that he would have termed ‘adorable,’ It was a good thing he was feeling so tenderly toward her, because it inured him to what she would say next. 

“He kissed me, you know. Ron, during the final battle, he kissed me and I think he really believed that was it, the big romantic gesture, the beginning of our happily ever after.”

“Oh?” he asked, hoping to sound only politely interested, while quietly seething, even as he knew he had no right, he'd had no claim on her then.

“I did too, in a way, it had been coming for so long, it would have been so easy if it had just worked out. Everybody seemed convinced that we were meant to be. It should have been a bright spot in a dark time.”

She heaved a heavy sigh.

“The difference between Ron and I is that I quickly saw that things weren’t working out, and he was stubbornly determined to make things work no matter how miserable we both were. But the fact was that we didn’t want the same things, in life in general or at that particular time, and it wasn’t long before I realized that our relationship was over and, that if i stayed at the Burrow any longer our friendship would be ruined as well, which was the last thing I wanted. So, I went to stay with Andromeda.”

“That sounds reasonable,” he murmured consolingly, she shrugged.

“I won’t lie, I needed some space either way, but I probably wouldn’t have found the strength to do it if we had still been together,” she heaved out another sigh, “anyway, he didn’t take kindly to my decision.”

Draco felt his hackles rising.

“What did he do?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Nothing,” she answered hastily.

He gave her a dark look.

“Really Draco, he didn’t do anything, he’s a hothead but he would never hurt me intentionally, he was just loudly disapproving,” she snorted to herself, “honestly ‘loud disapproval’ is his default setting. But it was okay, the war had just ended, we were all still in mourning, I assumed it would get better, that it was just a period to get through. I didn’t realize that he hadn’t understood, or believed, that I was serious when I ended things with him. When he found out I was going back to Hogwarts instead of entering Auror training he went bezerk. The thing about Ron is that he doesn’t respond well when things don’t go the way he’s planned, and somewhere along the way he had decided that he and I would be together and he, Harry and I would be this unstoppable team forever, and he had a hard time letting go of that idea.”

Draco couldn’t help himself, he snorted. 

“He thought you were going to chase dark wizards your whole life?”

“What?!” she objected, “I could have done it!”

“Oh don’t pretend to be all offended, I’m not saying you’re incapable, but it’s obviously not your style. You’re such a bleeding heart, we even noticed it down in the dungeons! You took on every hopeless cause there was, and a few that didn’t need to be taken on in the first place.” 

“Figures, you noticed that but my supposed best friends didn’t, at least not beyond making fun of it,” she said sadly, and more than a little bitterly. 

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, much less mirthful.

He knew why his fellow snakes had made fun of her and he could somewhat excuse that, she had probably used the derision to bolster her anyway. But he couldn’t begin to imagine how it might have hurt somebody with such a big heart like Hermione not to have had the support of her friends.

“It’s not your fault. Anyway, to make a long story short he was angry with me, he felt betrayed and he barely spoke to me for the next year. Harry was stuck in the middle, moreso because he was with Ginny and she can be rather blind when it comes to her family, so she didn’t understand why I wasn’t with Ron either. But I don’t know, I started to come to terms with it, it felt like things were slowly getting back to normal.”

“But?” he asked, knowing there was more.

“Then Harry and Ginny got engaged.”

“I can see how that would feel like a disaster,” he deadpanned, trying to lighten the mood, “I had nightmares for weeks after I saw their wedding announcement about eventual Potter/Weasley offspring.”

She whacked him on the chest, but then she laughed.

“I’m guessing that’s not why it was a problem for you though,” he prompted.

“Molly, Mrs. Weasley,” she clarified, “wasn’t in a good place after the war. I mean, I can only imagine what it must be like to lose a child, so I didn’t blame her. But she started to let her grief run away with her a bit, and it made things difficult in a whole other way.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was desperate for her family to grow, as if she wanted to lay down more roots so they couldn’t all just be swept away. And that’s understandable, but she became inappropriately involved in her children’s lives and relationships, more so than she had been before the war, and she had already been very opinionated. She wouldn’t stop pestering Bill and Fleur about having children; she tried everything she could to make Charlie move back to England; she nearly frightened Percy’s poor girlfriend Audrey off completely; and she basically shunned me for breaking up with Ron. But she was the most invested in Harry and Ginny. I sometimes wonder about how long she’s been picturing them together,” she murmured thoughtfully, “anyway, when they got engaged she became nearly manic, and she got it in her head that they should be the ones to raise Teddy.”

“Teddy?” he questioned, baffled.

“Teddy Lupin,” she clarified, “Harry is his godfather.”

“Of course,” he said feeling stupid, having gotten lost in her tale.

“I had tried to keep my distance, give the family some time to heal and get over the idea of me and Ron. I mean, in a way it was flattering that they were so invested in us being together. But when I heard that Molly was trying to convince Harry to take Andromeda to court to get custody of Teddy I just couldn’t stay out of it, it was too much. He and Ginny had no business raising a child, they were still just teenagers, and I didn’t believe for a moment that had been Remus’ intention when he asked Harry to be godfather. But I knew that if Harry, the chosen one, went before the Wizengamot and asked for custody he would get it.”

“So you stepped in,” he intuited.

She sighed.

“Yeah, I talked to him, he was still my best friend so he confided in me. He didn’t feel any more ready to raise a child than I believed him to be, but he loves Molly like the mother he never really had, and he also wasn’t ready to stand up to her. So I did it for him, and Bill and George backed me up, but I was officially cast as the bad guy. And it’s mostly okay, it was certainly worth it, but things have never been the same since. And then, of course, Ron’s with Lavender Brown now, and she's not crazy about me being around. So, I guess what it comes down to is that we've grown apart, which is a natural part of growing up, but we've been through so much together, it was just the three of us against the world for so long, sometimes it's hard to accept.” 

“I am sorry for you,” he said, surprised by her own sincerity. 

“It's okay, it's nice to have somebody to talk to about it, almost everybody else in my life is involved, so I can’t really vent.”

“Anytime,” he muttered, “I’m just glad you felt comfortable enough to confide in me.”

“I just,” she hesitated.

“What?” he encouraged.

“I feel like you’re mine now.”

“Yours?” He questioned, a grin beginning to blossom on his face.

“Yes, and I’m yours too, we’re each other's,” she hastened to add, “like I have you to confide in now, you’re my person, I’m not sure there’s anything I couldn’t tell you,” she trailed off sheepishly, hiding her face again.

He was going to have to figure out a way to stop her from doing that, she was lovely when she was embarrassed.

“Goddess of my heart,” he crooned.

Her head immediately snapped back up and she glared at him. He nearly laughed out loud, she was so easy to rile, it was too bad she wasn’t blushing anymore though.

“Seriously Draco, if you call me any of those ridiculous pet names in public I will make you suffer,” she threatened, poking his chest for emphasis. 

He snickered.

“I just wanted your attention,” he pouted dramatically.

She rolled her eyes.

“I just wanted to say that I think that sounds pretty good, I’ll happily be yours.”

“Each others,” she corrected and he merely nodded in agreement.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Hermione could have spent all day lying on her sofa draped across Draco and listening to the reassuring beat of his heart. But she did remember that he had said that he had something to show her. And he'd sounded so serious about it too, she couldn't put that out of her mind.

“Draco,” she murmured, lifting her head from that comfortable place on his chest, “you said you had somewhere to take me?”

“I do, but I actually have something to give you first,” he ran a hand down her spine.

She extricated herself from him and sat up to look at him with a ‘what did you do?’ glare of warning. He simply pulled a long thin box out of an inner pocket of his robes. She took it from him gingerly, like it was something dangerous, because it looked suspiciously like a jewelry box, and having known him since they were eleven she could be sure that whatever was inside was probably going to be worth at least several months salary.

The middle class girl within her who knew that her parents had worked almost obsessively to achieve what they had, and had expected to do the same for herself, rebelled automatically. But she had to at least look at it. She flipped open the top to reveal a pendant on a delicate chain. A sapphire the size of her index fingernail surrounded by tiny but brilliant diamonds.

“Draco…” she said slowly.

“I know we agreed to keep things quiet for the time being,” he interrupted her objection, “but I won’t let it be said that I didn’t court you properly and respectfully. Traditionally, pure blooded wizards present jewelry to show that they are serious in their suit. I would be remiss in not doing so.”

She took a deep breath and considered her response. On one hand, she was so used to being independent, she took care of everything herself, and quite often other people as well, it’s who she was. She certainly wasn’t accustomed to regularly accepting expensive gifts, it went against all her instincts, and he'd already sent what she could only guess to be at least fifty galleons worth of flowers to her this week.

But on the other hand, what of his sensibilities? Was he to forget all of his traditions because his mate was a muggleborn? That was patently unfair. As much as she may have wanted to run from pureblood society, she was rapidly falling for a man fully ensconced in it. And yet, when she looked at the necklace she realized that Draco had probably exercised considerable restraint in purchasing it. It was undoubtedly expensive, but it was also simple, elegant, and in no way ostentatious. It was the opposite of a statement piece.

It would rest beautifully in the hollow of her neck. She could wear it everyday and carry a little piece of them and what they were trying to build together with her; which had probably been his intention. She also heard what he had not been saying: he needed some reassurance. She was determined to keep things between them quiet, and he'd agreed, but he needed to see that she was willing to acknowledge that they were a couple in this small way. Refusing would be thoughtless and ungrateful.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful,” she removed it from the box, and handed it to him, turning so that he could place it around her neck and fasten it.

He did so, finishing with a kiss to the back of her neck.

“I know you said your favorite color was purple, but since mine is blue and your birthstone is a sapphire I thought this represented us both,” he explained.

“You also said blue represented House Malfoy,” she said quietly.

“Yes,” he admitted, “is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” she said, determined not to dismiss his heritage out of turn, she turned around smiling mischievously at him, “but admit it, you didn't go with a purple stone because you would have had to settle for something merely semiprecious like amethyst.”

He actually rolled his eyes.

“Hush witch, I could have given you emeralds with the excuse that green has always been associated with House Black,” he growled.

She looked at him with wide innocent eyes.

“I like emeralds,” she said sweetly.

“I'll have to remember that,” he smirked.

She could have hit something, how could she be stupid enough to tease him about that? He had more than enough resources to put his money where her mouth was. But she was no Narcissa Malfoy, she didn't need to be dripping in jewels.

“So where are we going?” she changed the subject.

“I told you, it's a surprise.”

“I thought you’d tell me once you got here,” she pouted playfully, she reached out to entwine her fingers with his beseechingly.

He was amused but undeterred.

“No, it would ruin it if I tried to describe it, this is one of those things that needs to be seen to understand,” his voice was serious and his eyes were guarded.

She immediately sobered.

“Well am I dressed appropriately at least?” she wondered, looking down at her knee high boots, jeans, and flouncily pretty shirt.

He had been so wonderful to her, so accommodating, she wanted to prove to him that he was also worth the effort, even if that effort was just taking more time in considering her clothing than putting on the first thing she saw when she opened her wardrobe.

“You're perfect,” he said, his guarded expression had disappeared and his eyes were hungry, “you should get a cloak though.”

She nodded and went to fetch one. When she returned he offered her his arm.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, and she knew he meant to side-along them.

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation, but instead of taking the proffered arm she stepped close to his body and wrapped her arms around his waist.

He didn’t say anything, just enfolded her in his arms and then she felt the familiar twist and pull of apparition. When she opened her eyes she saw that they were in a forest that, if pressed, Hermione would have guessed was located in Scotland. She looked around but didn’t see any indication why he would have brought them to this spot. It was just a damp chilly forest and she’d spent enough time in those for a lifetime, which he very well knew.

“Uh, Draco, where is ‘here?’” she tried to suppress a glare.

He chuckled at her obvious skepticism.

“We’re not quite there yet. It’s most impressive if you fly in.”

She looked around again, this time even more skeptically.

“You didn’t bring a broom,” she stated blandly.

He just pointed at his own back, indicating that she'd missed the obvious.

“You’re going to fly us, can you even do that?”

“Because you’re so heavy I couldn’t possibly manage it?” he retorted.

“I'd just never considered that,” she admitted, eyeing him, though she was more interested than speculative.

“Usually I wouldn’t do it, because you'll be completely vulnerable and I won’t have my hands free to defend us, but we’re already inside the wards, nothing can disturb us or try to attack us here, and I’d like to have you close when you see it for the first time,” he said mysteriously.

“Wards?” she asked, “in the middle of a forest?”

“You really don’t give up, do you?” he brushed his hand over her hair fondly, “luckily I’m just as stubborn as you are. I’m not going to tell you, you have to wait and see, it’ll be just a few minutes now if you’ll agree to let me fly you in.”

She bit her lip, “are you sure it’s safe?"

“Would I risk you?” he looked at her incredulously.

It was still easy to forget the veela aspect.

“Right,” she shook herself, “of course not,” she gave him a nod of acquiescence.

She watched, no less fascinated than she had been two nights ago, while he removed his robes and shirt and handed them to her after neatly folding them.

“If you wouldn’t mind holding these?”

“Of course not,” she responded, hugging them to her chest in preparation.

And then, in an instant he was standing before her again, a myth of a man. It was different this time though. Thursday night this form had nearly overwhelmed her, he had been too good to be true, too beautiful, too perfect. He couldn’t possibly be meant for her. Now, when she melted into his arms it was because she knew she belonged there.

“Ready?” he asked, picking her up bridal style.

“Lets go!” she grinned up at him, and he visibly sighed with relief that she’d relaxed.

It was an almost unbelievably smooth ride, but she might have been biased, relieved as she was to not be clinging to the back of some magical creature running desperately towards or away from danger, or clutching even more frantically at a stick of wood; but safe in the arms of a man she was quickly coming to trust completely. It was the first time she’d ever felt only joy and exhilaration in flight.

As they rose above the trees it became clear that while it had appeared that they had been deep inside a forest, they had actually been quite close to a precipice which had been hidden while on the ground by the thick foliage. He flew them to the edge and then, without warning, dove.

She gave a brief shriek of surprise but then she looked around and her breath caught in her throat. It had nothing to do with their sudden swift descent, but at the sight scene laid out beneath them. She reflexively clutched the hand holding his clothes to her chest and looked to Draco as if to confirm what she was seeing was real. He just grinned and nodded.

They were gliding above the a beautiful sun kissed glen, carved meticulously out of the surrounding mountains, a rocky river babbled its way through its hard won space, and disappeared off into the distance. At one end a waterfall, which was the source of the river was topped by an exquisite castle that appeared to have been chiseled out of the mountainside itself, and which presided over the small valley. It was better than seeing Hogwarts for the first time, this was a place you could search your whole life for and never find, a true haven. The moment she had seen it she’d felt like they’d come home.

“Rivendell,” she murmured to herself, not even realizing what she was saying.

Draco landed them neatly beside the river, set her down gently, and then pulled her back into his arms, her back to his chest.

“Why did you call this Rivendell?” he asked at the same time she said: “that’s a castle, Draco!”

They laughed. “Tell me what you meant first,” he insisted, resting his chin on her shoulder and stroking it against the sensitive nape of her neck, making her shiver and lean further into him.

“Rivendell is a place in a muggle book called, ‘The Lord of the Rings,’ I always pictured it looking like this. It’s the home of a group of elves- not like the elves in our world, imaginary elves- and it was a place of refuge and peace,” she sighed dreamily.

“Well, there are elves here too.”

That brought her up short.

“Really?” she asked.

“Hmmmm, glen elves, they live in the reeds along the river, they have a village down there,” he pointed downstream where Hermione could vaguely make out a small grouping of what appeared to be grass huts, “and you’re right, it’s a castle, albeit a small one, my ancestors lived there for generations.”

He said it so casually she almost wanted to laugh.

“So, this place belongs to your family?” she asked with wonder.

“In a way. The first Black to manifest veela abilities, Ouroboros, at least the first that I know of, he was the first to document his experience, at least. Anyway, he was drawn here by his instincts after he found his mate. He was welcomed by the elves. As you know by their house elf cousins, elves are powerful magical creatures. But like all magical beings their magic comes with limitations. They are tied to this land, they work it and it prospers under their care. But it is a nurturing magic, again similar to house elf magic in that way, and they have little ability to protect it from those who would attempt to invade and use it for ill. They need help with that, a magical partner.”

“That’s terrible,” she frowned.

He looked at her steadily and she was sure he was evaluating her, she straightened her posture, she had no intention of going on an elvish rights rant at the moment.

“Hermione, have you ever thought about how none of the species in the Forbidden Forest are really allies? At best they coexist begrudgingly, there is no symbiosis amongst the creatures there, though. That’s part of what makes it so dangerous, and what makes it feel so foreboding. There are no species of elves in the forest, the castle elves avoid going anywhere near it. It is against their nature to exist that way.”

“That’s why it’s so cruel to free them,” she admitted, “I know that now. They are dependent on the magic of a family, it feeds them, replenishes their cores and gives them purpose,” she sighed resignedly, she’d given up on her campaign to free the elves, but she still thought the system under which they served was deeply flawed; in theory is was equally symbiotic, but it was too easy for wizards to exploit.

He nodded and pecked her cheek.

“Similarly, these elves need this land, but they need another kind of magical being to help them protect it, one that is pure enough to coexist with them and not run them out of their homes once the elves have instructed the land to welcome them. The land would eventually sour on any being who did that, but there are many who wouldn't care.”

“This is fascinating, you should come in and give a talk to my department,” she mused.

“For you, love, I might consider it, but I don't know how I would explain how I came about this knowledge without revealing a lot of family secrets.”

“I guess you're right,” she acknowledged, “sorry, go ahead.”

He just chuckled.

“Anyway, there is little purer than a veela who has just found his mate. His only intention is to find a place to keep her safe and raise a family with her, and once he has found that place he will defend it with all of his considerable power. So, it is no surprise that when the elves here sent out a call through the land for a protector, my ancestor was drawn here.”

“So they just gave him their land?” she asked.

“Have you not been listening?” he laughed, “nothing would just convince them to give away their land, they don’t think of it as belonging to them, they are the caretakers, they accepted him, and his descendants, as its protectors. If asked they would probably say that they and my family actually serve the land, not the other way around.”

“The wards,” she breathed.

“That’s right, the wards. Ouroboros and his beloved cast the wards of an already old family, wards perfected and added to by generations of Black witches and wizards; and then added to that the power of a veela and the magical bond he shares with his mate. Unique, as far as I know. The wards at Malfoy Manor are nothing in comparison, at the moment you and I are the only humans who could get near this place. And in exchange for this protection the elves agreed to help him build a home, and let his family live in peace here in perpetuity.”

“But you made it sound like your family hadn’t lived here for a long time.”

“They haven’t, when I started reading about this place I wondered what had happened to it, it sounded...like a dream, I wanted to see it. So, I started digging into family records. The journals were no help because the last veela and his mate were still living here when they died, so I had to look elsewhere for information as to why the family left. My family is very good about recording births, and deaths, and marriages, to the point of obsession, but there was nothing about this land. Other than some of the stories my mother told me that vaguely hinted at a palace in a glen, there was no record of this place outside of the journals, much less of why it was apparently abandoned.”

“And the journals can only be read by veela and a bonded mate, which haven’t existed in centuries,” she chimed in.

“Exactly,” he kissed her jawline and continued on with his story, “but I was too curious to give up, and searching from it distracted me from thinking of you,” he chuckled wryly and she squeezed the hands at her waist, “so I used the journals as an instruction manual/map. It took a lot less time than I was anticipating. I knew the general location, I apparated up here and started flying around, and sure enough the elfin magic in the land started calling to me. I flew in here for the first time the same way I brought you, that’s how I knew you had to see it that way.”

“When we flew in here, Draco, it felt remarkable, like I belonged here,” she gasped, now wondering if her feelings had meant more than she thought.

“Yes,” he said in agreement, “you would be able to feel it too, to a certain extent.”

“Anyway, when I got here the elves were overjoyed and happy to talk to me. Luckily they live very long lives and their history is entirely oral, they were able to tell me exactly what had happened. In the middle of the last century a wizard called Cepheus was Lord Black, he died young, leaving behind a widow called Carolina and just two small children, a girl and a boy. Carolina was unhappy here, she was from Italy and she disliked being up here, essentially alone in the Scottish wilds, away from society. She cared nothing for our family history, her marriage was an arranged one, and her son was due to become the next Lord Black, so she had the resources of the House at her disposal. So she left, the children were too young to really remember the place to be able to return, had they even desired to, the elves hadn’t seen any member of the family in over 150 years.”

“Nobody came looking? That seems like such a loss,” she lamented.

“Like I said, the two children were very young, without the information the journals provided I doubt they would have known where to start. They had relatives that would have remembered the place, but nobody would have attempted to come back without the permission of the Lord and I think by the time Orion, that was the little boy, grew up it had just been left behind.”

“That's such a shame, what if you hadn't found it, all that history could have just been lost!”

“Swot,” he chuckled fondly.

She elbowed him in retaliation.

“I think, in some ways it may have been a fortuitous turn of events because it was about that time when my family started to become really immersed in politics. Perhaps the rest of the family just felt like Carolina, that they needed to be in society, not all the way out here. And when I looked into it further, it’s around this time that the House really started to put an emphasis on pureblood supremacy. It was such a powerful political tool, and they wanted to be powerful. Things started to disintegrate. They became more immersed in the dark arts. They stopped looking out of the country for spouses; the intermarrying caused each subsequent generation to be smaller and smaller. Certain factions of the family became involved with Grindewald and then the Dark Lord in turn. Perhaps it’s better that this place remained free of all that.”

Hermione hummed in agreement.

“Are the elves angry that they were left for all this time?”

“They don’t really think like that, the protections the family placed remained intact, even if they have somewhat faded over time with the lack of Black blood residing on the land, but we haven't broken our oath to them,” he took a deep breath, obviously aggrieved, “I think they missed us, they had gotten used to co-existing with us; our children played with their children, we did our own rituals to inspire the health of the land, they aided in the upkeep of the castle. I think that give and take has been missed. Elves are just not the kind of creatures meant to exist alone, these elves had their protected land so they were safe and happy, but they tell me there are less of them now than there were when the castle was abandoned. Their magic senses things are not as good as they once were and they are having less elflings."

"That’s sad,” she sighed gazing at the beautiful castle almost impossibly formed out of the imposing rock.

“We are here now,” he said, holding her more tightly.

And that was when the Knut dropped. She spun in his arms. She felt her magic pulse with excitement and joy, she raised her hands to his face to make sure that he could feel it too.

“Draco, are you saying that we could live here, that this could be our home?!”

He laughed, “why do you think I brought you here?”

“Oh Godric!” she squealed.

“I wanted you to see that we certainly have options outside of Malfoy Manor, and that I was looking for a place before I even came to you to tell you that you were my mate. On the off chance that you didn’t run for the hills, I wanted to have something to offer you.”

She went up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his, so forcefully that she nearly knocked their teeth together. He didn’t seem to have any objections.

“Can we go see it?” she asked once she pulled away, not the least bit embarrassed by the breathless quality of her voice.

“And here I was worried you wouldn't like it.”

“Wouldn't like it?” she asked incredulously, “wouldn't like it? Are you daft?”

“I don't know Hermione, this place holds a lot of significance to the Black family and your history with my family is complicated, at best.”

She reached up to cup his cheek, waving behind her in the general vicinity of the castle with her other hand, “oh Draco, don't you see what this is? What did you say, that there is no creature more pure than a veela who has just found his mate? And now here we are. Purity is about more than just blood, ‘Toujours Pur’ doesn't have to be something to be ashamed of. There is incredible beauty here, a family steeped in darkness and hatred alone isn’t capable of creating something like this. I think this might be a sign that we're meant to bring some of that beauty back and show it to the world. I'd be honored to do that with you.”

He leaned forward and rested his forehead gently against hers.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

“I'm not opposed to the idea of celestial names either.”

He froze and stared at her in shock. She just gave him a smile and a cheeky wink. He recovered quickly.

“You know, it was that first veela, Ouroboros, and his wife that started that tradition, even if they weren't veela themselves they wanted to assure that their children could be children of the sky.”

Well that was...kind of perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any interest in seeing the picture that inspired this chapter it's on my Tumblr. RiverWriter there too. Thanks for reading.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

He struggled not to squirm under the weight of his aunt’s gaze. She was the most intimidating witch he’d ever met, and that was including, well, his other aunt. Andromeda shared Bellatrix’s classic dark aristocratic looks, and his own mother’s rigid manners, but she had her own elegantly determined demeanor that had him convinced that amongst the three Black sisters she would have fared best in the face of the Dark Lord. She would never have worshiped him, nor crumbled to his will in fear. It had taken him mere minutes to understand why his fearsome mate admired this woman so. It was utterly terrifying.

He knew how to manipulate and charm, he knew how to intimidate in his own right. But he had no idea how to deal with a woman who most likely knew all of his tricks and was utterly unimpressed by them. Especially when this witch was a person whom his mate loved almost above any other, and with whom it was vital he at least came to an understanding.

Speaking of his mate, she had scampered off to put her godson Teddy down for the night, leaving the two of them alone. His mate who he was beginning to think, aside from the tiny issue of being the only magical person in her family, would have made an excellent Slytherin. Because he was absolutely certain she’d been planning this uncomfortable encounter for at least a week.

She'd been ecstatic to see the glen castle, or ‘Rivendell’ as he'd started referring to it in his head. Both because she'd kept repeating it in this awed whisper as they'd toured the house, and because she'd lent him a copy of that ‘Lord of the Rings’ book, and while the author didn't describe anything that resembled the actual magical world, the story was still fascinating. And he agreed wholeheartedly with her comparison of their own special refuge to Rivendell.

Her awe had made him smug, even though he knew he'd actually done very little to earn it; he hadn't built the place, but he had found it and brought her there. And he'd rejoiced in her reaction. He was also pleased that she seemed happy with the various pieces of furniture he'd chosen from his vaults and other Black properties to begin to fill the rooms. There was work to be done, he'd wanted her to have a say in the decorating, but she'd walked into a home and not a stone cavern.

She'd actually tackled him when she saw the library. All he'd done was transfer most of the Black collection (all the books that didn't make him shudder or hang his head in shame that he had a relative who would purchase such a thing) to the space he'd thought most suited for the purpose, along with a few special additions he'd found that he'd hoped she'd liked. Her happy tears had almost been too much for him.

And then she'd finally met Effie. His most faithful companion had made him promise that they wouldn't leave the castle without introducing her to her new mistress. Hermione had been gracious and loving. Effie had been over the moon. Somehow Hermione had gotten Effie to promise that she would share stories of Draco's childhood, and the elf had been even more pleased by that prospect. Draco didn't know if he was happy or horrified and was generally just baffled and thankful that Hermione had built a rapport with her so quickly.

After that they'd visited the glen elves, and if they'd been happy when he had arrived, it hardly compared to their reception of his mate.

“You will fill this glen with younglings again,” an elder had told him in an excited whisper after some of the elflings had dragged Hermione off to sit on the riverbed for a chat and to weave flowers through her hair; her curls had absolutely fascinated them.

They'd arrived back at her flat that night, her eyes alight with joy. They cuddled up on the couch and fed each other something she'd called ‘lo mein,’ she with two wooden sticks, and he with a fork, but it had been delicious nonetheless. Then she'd oh-so-innocently requested that he meet Andromeda and he hadn't even considered refusing.

And as he sat here now he knew he'd been played. She'd waited until he was most vulnerable to her, so happy that he wouldn't give her request a second thought, and she’d struck. He wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss her or strangle her.

That was a lie. He was actually bursting with pride at this demonstration of cunning from her, and of course he wanted to kiss her; that urge was just very, very inconvenient in the face of his formidable aunt.

He'd brought Andromeda a bottle of wine. It was an appropriate gift for a hostess, and considering that she was a Black, he'd made sure it was a very nice bottle, assuming she'd have discriminating tastes. He should have known she wouldn't be easily impressed, but he hadn't expected her to display that opinion so plainly. She'd actually rolled her eyes.

He’d viciously suppressed his innate urge to sneer at her when she did that. He knew that this might be as close to a ‘meet the parents’ as he would ever get with Hermione. She’d confessed to him a few days before what she'd done to protect her actual parents, altering their memories and sending them away from the war. She'd also told him how little they'd appreciated it; the spell had been reversed, they had their memories back, but they were almost completely estranged from their daughter whom they felt they could no longer trust.

He’d felt enraged on her behalf, did they not realize that she'd almost certainly saved their lives? He also felt horribly guilty. He hadn’t missed the part of her story where she’d admitted that it had been the Death Eaters invasion of Hogwarts that had incited her to take action. That made it his fault, he’d let the Death Eaters into the castle, and as a result she’d lost her parents.

She’d assured him that his actions had just been a triggering factor. If not for them it would have been something else that sent her into action. She was Harry Potter’s muggleborn best friend, her family was always going to be a target.

It would have been cold comfort from anybody else. But she wouldn't be either deterred or dismissed. She’d quite literally wrapped her small body around him and refused to let go until he stopped castigating himself. It had nearly undone him to witness that kind of devotion from her, and he was determined to impress the one parental figure she still had in her life.

“Hermione wants us to get along,” she interrupted his musings, gazing at him steadily from the sofa opposite him, her cool demeanor a sharp contrast to her cozy living room,“but I think my personal opinion of you is almost completely irrelevant.”

He could feel his eyebrows creeping up his forehand in surprise, noticing too late to hide the reaction.

“You see, she is far too used to relying on the opinions of others and I won't be party to that. Treat her well, keep her from turning in on herself and we will get along just fine.”

“That sounds like a surprisingly Gryffindor offer from a Slytherin,” he said warily.

She shrugged casually, “I see no reason to beat around the bush, I have your instincts on my side.”

“You mean my veela instincts?”

“Exactly, I know you are driven to please and protect her, that is really all that matters to me. We have time to get to know each other, in the meantime I do not wish to make Hermione fret that we don’t like each other, so I suppose I’m informing you that I have every intention of being civil.”

Well, there was that understanding he’d hoped for, though he was under no illusion that he wouldn’t be expected to prove himself eventually. That was fine, he could do that. Hermione and the life they’d carefully started to build in the glen over the past week; that was his world now and he would fight for it.

He nodded and she sighed.

“You have to watch out for her,” she warned.

“Of course,” he answered automatically.

“You say that as if it's simple, but I don't just mean her physical well being. And she is her own worst enemy, she won't make it easy for you.”

“How do you mean?”

“She’s used to taking care of others, sometimes she forgets to take care of herself. Or worse, she martyrs herself, sacrificing her own happiness for that of her loved ones. It's about time she had somebody who was unequivocally on her side, so I'm happy that she has you. What has she told you about her friends?”

“You mean Potter and Weasley?”

Andromeda nodded, “and the whole Weasley family, really.”

“Just that things are...strained. At least that's how I would characterize it from how she describes it, but she clearly still loves them deeply.

“She defined herself for too long by how she could be helpful to Harry, and to a lesser extent Ron. It was her purpose in this world for years, during a defining period in her life when so many people were insisting she didn’t belong here,” she looked at him significantly, but he refused to look away in shame, she had already made it clear she expected him to be strong for Hermione, he wouldn’t back down in the face of this very first test.

“When the war was over I saw that she was at loose ends, even more so than most of us, and she floundered while looking for a place where she belonged. The Weasleys pushed her away; it was somewhat understandable given the breakdown of her relationship with Ronald, but in my opinion she was just too accepting of the situation, it was like she expected to be rejected. She’s spent literally her whole life as an outsider: a witch in the muggle world, a muggleborn in a magical world rife with blood prejudice, a rejected daughter both by her natural parents and by the people she’d come to think of as family. Her instinct was just to duck her head and go on her way.”

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but in the end he didn’t have anything to say, that explanation actually made a lot of sense. It accounted for how Hermione could be both the most courageous woman he'd ever met, and also insecure enough that she couldn't seem to believe that he would want her on most days.

“That’s the problem with Potter and Weasley, isn’t it? She's been holding herself apart from them because she doesn’t feel like she has anything to offer them anymore, and it’s easier for her to stay away than it is to face that. She bases her self-worth on how she can be useful to others.”

He thought about how she'd dedicated her career thus far to the rather thankless task of fighting for the rights of magical creatures. He hadn't considered that might be a symptom of something beyond just having a large heart.

Andromeda gave an elegant shrug.

“Something like that, she’s built up a lot of walls. I’m hoping you will be the warrior by her side who will help her knock them all down, instead of hording her behind them and keeping her to yourself.”

Well that was something to think about, because part of him wanted to do just that, the thought of trusting anybody else with her was almost physically painful.

“I don't expect her friends to accept her relationship with you right off. I’m aware of the history between Malfoys and Weasleys, and Harry’s temper is unfortunate. But Draco, it’s important to her emotional well being that you not just let her give up. They are still important to her, don't sit back while she allows them to punish her for being your mate simply because you don't like them and you'd prefer not to have them in your life,” she said sternly.

“I don't think I can reasonably be expected to bring Potter and Weasley around on the subject of me,” he defended,

“No, but you don't have to encourage their alienation. If they refuse to come around in the end, well that's their loss, but don't make her feel like she has to choose between you and them. She'll choose you, but she'll be miserable. Like I said, just be the person who is on her side, no matter what.”

He nodded, he could do that. In fact, he felt privileged to be the man standing by her side.

“He really loves that train book,” Hermione’s voice cut through the thoughtful silence as she re-entered the living room.

Andromeda chuckled.

“How many times did you have to read it?”

“Three, then I started reciting this Gaelic poem my mum used to read to me. That did the trick, I wish I’d remembered that before now.”

“He didn’t whine?”

“No, he was a sweetheart, as usual,” she smiled beatifically and sank down onto the sofa next to him, casually taking his hand.

“Well dinner is all prepared, I just have the roast warming in the oven.”

Hermione turned to Draco and beamed.

“Andromeda’s a great cook, I'm totally envious.”

“It really chafes when you're not just naturally brilliant at something, doesn't it?” he gave her a teasing wink.

She rolled her eyes and he turned back to his aunt.

“Thank you, that sounds great “

“It will even go with that bottle of wine you brought,” she smirked.

Well, what was one more witch in his life who wasn't even remotely afraid of him? He'd get used to it.

They settled themselves in the small-at least by Malfoy standards- but well appointed dining room and Draco watched in fascination as Andromeda presided over the table. He obviously knew she was his mother's sister, but the similarities in their mannerisms were, at times, uncanny. Especially given her more obvious resemblance to Bellatrix, because there had been nothing refined about that madwoman.

“Draco, how are your parents?” she asked, once they were all served.

He tried to bite back his look of surprise at the question, but Andromeda spotted it.

“Many things have happened between us, but that does not mean I wish them ill. Narcissa and I were close growing up and Lucius and I were something like friends at Hogwarts,” she explained herself.

“Really?” he couldn't help but ask.

“Hmmmm,” she said in agreement, “though I suppose it's no surprise that they wouldn't have spoken of me to you.”

“No, they didn't,” he said quietly, “but to answer your question, they're fine. The magical restrictions the Ministry have Father under irritate him, but I think even he realizes that he's lucky to have avoided Azkaban,” he hesitated for a moment, “I’m sorry, but what do you mean that you and Father were amicable?” he asked, still reeling over that little revelation, he couldn't picture his father being anything like friendly with a woman who would eventually run off and marry a muggleborn wizard, and was doubly intrigued by this tiny insight into his adolescence- his parents didn't readily share memories of their pasts.

Andromeda laughed lightly.

“He and I were actually in the same year in school, Cissy was one year below us. Which means, of course, that we were sorted together, and attended classes together for seven years. If I recall correctly we even took the same electives. And when the time came we both made prefect. We spent a lot of time around each other. But most importantly, he set his sights on Cissy from a young age. As I said, she and I were close, I wasn't going to waste the opportunity to get to know the boy who was so clearly interested in my little sister.”

It was odd to hear her speak like is, of his parents as children, he rarely considered the time before they'd been a couple.

“You got along?” he wondered.

“Rarely,” she snorted, “even as children we had very different opinions on things, but in a perverse way I enjoyed our disagreements, and he did too I believe, given how often he sought me out to start them. But he was a rare wizard, in that he didn't treat me with respect just because of my last name, but because he actually seemed to think I had a brain in my head and that my thoughts were worthy of his time, even when he obviously thought they were wrong.”

Draco just stared at her, riveted. He could feel Hermione's eyes on him and he wondered what she was making of this. He'd avoided speaking of his father to her.

“He treated Narcissa the same way, and it set my mind at ease, I had been worried that she would end up like our mother.”

“Like Grandmother, how?”

Draco saw very few similarities between his mother and grandmother, who was a cold woman interested in very little other than her own comfort and vanity. He knew all about the stoic face his mother put on for the world, but she had been a warm and loving parent who he knew would have been willing to sacrifice anything for him, even her own life. She very nearly had.

“You know your mother inherited her looks from my mother.”

He nodded, it was true that the superficial resemblance was unmistakable.

“Both great beauties, people began remarking upon it even when Narcissa was still a small child. The difference is that Mother had very little other than her beauty to recommend her, whereas Narcissa was thoughtful and inquisitive. But I feared that she'd bend to society’s pressure and begin to believe her worth was wrapped up in her beauty. I especially worried that she would end up with a wizard who treated her like Father treated Mother, like she was a trophy he had won and who only existed for him to show off. Mother reveled in that kind of attention, but it would have been an empty life for my sister. Lucius was good for her, and she for him for that matter-even if I did think he was a peacock,” she laughed to herself.

Draco nodded, his father was many things, most of them not good, but he genuinely loved and respected his mother and treated her like a trusted companion. Their relationship was a rarity in the circles in which they moved. Most marriages probably would have collapsed under the pressure his parents had faced while under the Dark Lord’s rule, but they were still genuinely strong and happy together. Hermione didn't know it, but he actually based his treatment of her on the way his father treated his mother.

He glanced at her to see her smiling softly at him, eyes sparkling happily. His heart suddenly felt so full and he couldn't help but reach over and take her hand under the table. She gave  
him a squeeze and then intertwined their fingers more securely.

“Your parents have a good marriage,” she observed astutely, her smile still happy and understanding.

He simply nodded.

“I'm glad,” is all she said.

What had he ever done to deserve this woman, who had every reason to hate his parents, but instead easily expressed such a gracious sentiment?

They were quiet for awhile, the only sounds in the room the scraping of forks on plates.

“I was very pleased Draco, when Hermione came to me and told me that you had manifested as a veela and that she was your mate,” Andromeda eventually ventured to speak.

His aunt sure was full of surprises.

“You were?”

She nodded.

“For Hermione’s sake, of course. Your instincts will ensure she is loved completely and that she is well taken care of,” she gave him a pointed look, as if to remind him of their earlier discussion, “and you are certainly not lacking in resources to do so. It is a weight off my mind to know that she has you.”

He heard Hermione huff softly in protest at the way they were talking around her.

“I'm happy to hear that,” he said, deciding to ignore his witch in favor of the other, there was no pleasing them both at the moment, and he knew Hermione would prefer that they left tonight with the air clear between him and Andromeda.

“You know that Hermione is Teddy’s godmother?”

“She mentioned that, yes.”

“Did she tell you that I was the one who chose her to fill that role? Dora and Remus didn't have time to choose a godmother before they were killed.”

Draco just nodded and tried not look uncomfortable at the mention of the cousin he'd never met who had been killed by their mutual aunt; or her former professor of a husband who, despite the image he had projected, he'd actually really liked.

“I did that because I wanted to be absolutely certain that if anything happened to me that he would be taken care of, and I know how reliable Hermione is and how much she loves Teddy. Harry is a lovely boy, but he has a terrible habit of running headlong into danger and given his profession...I simply wasn't comfortable leaving him as the only option to care for my grandson.”

Draco nodded again, finding it a little odd to think of Potter as mortal, given that he'd once seen him quite literally come back from the dead. Considering the way Hermione was anxiously shifting beside him, he assumed that she didn't like to think about her friend in this manner either, though he was sure it was for very different reasons. But Andromeda wasn't finished.

“I know you've accepted Hermione, a muggleborn, as your mate but that's different, I need your assurance that, should it become necessary, you will be willing to take a half-blood child whose father was a werewolf into your home.”

“Andromeda,” Hermione interjected.

“No, love, it's okay,” he assured her, “she has every reason to be worried. I can only assume that she's familiar with the way I was raised and with the prejudices I was taught,” he glanced at his aunt who tilted her head slightly in agreement, “I do assure you that my thoughts on those issues have changed since the war, but I can do even better than that at setting your mind at ease. Hermione is Teddy’s godmother, she has voluntarily sworn oaths to him, bound herself to him. Given our magical connection I am bound to him too, it would go against every instinct I possess to harm him in any way. I already feel an urge to protect him and I only met him for five minutes. I assure you, I would treat him as any child actually born of Hermione and he would have a place in our home like one of our children if he needed it,” he said solemnly.

“I had wondered, thank you for sharing that, I know it's in a veela’s nature to remain rather secretive about how their magic works and what exactly they are capable of, and you don't know me well.”

“Hermione trusts you,” he explained simply.

She nodded.

“It will be my pleasure to watch you build House Black back up again,” she responded.

He looked at her searchingly

“I would have thought you would have been perfectly happy to see the line go extinct. It would be understandable, given how you were treated.”

“The family tree needed to be pruned and it has been, thoroughly. Your mother and I heard the same stories; not just about our Veela ancestors, but about how great our House was. And, once upon a time, I actually believe that to have been true, there is plenty to be proud of in our history. It would be my honor to see the tree grow strong again.”

Draco glanced at Hermione to gauge her reaction, only to see that she was once again, unbelievably, smiling at him. What Andromeda was proposing was that she would be the linchpin in rebuilding a family that had once attempted to annihilate her and all people like her. And yet she continued to gaze at him with what looked suspiciously like love in her eyes.

He had never really thought about whether he wanted children. He'd always known that he was expected to produce an heir, but he'd never considered if it was something he actually desired; until he’d found Hermione. Now he had to admit that he hoped to be able to convince the amazing woman beside him to give him a quidditch team, if not more.

He couldn't think of anything better than spending the rest of his life surrounded by the products of their love. The glen castle had room for a family of twelve, at the very least, and it could easily be expanded. He continued to look at her; he was fairly sure she’d eviscerate him if he lent voice to his thoughts at the moment. He'd just have to ease her into the idea.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

She awoke early on her birthday, of all days, cursing the fact that she was a woman. She stumbled out of bed and into the loo and then scrambled around for a pain potion, knowing it would only partially alleviate the discomfort she was feeling. Menstrual cramps were something muggles and wizards alike seemed almost equally unprepared to deal with. She found it extremely unfortunate that magic was not the cure-all muggles believed it to be.

‘Happy birthday to me,’ she snorted to herself. Some present this was.

As she finished brushing her teeth to rid her mouth of the foul taste of the potion she heard the floo sound in the living room and went to investigate. She walked into the room to see her boyfriend stepping out of the fireplace looking better than anybody had a right to at this hour. From one wrist dangled what appeared to be a picnic basket. The other hand clutched a tray of drinks in paper cups, cups bearing the familiar logo of her favorite cafe. Her favorite Parisian cafe.

Her heart stuttered in her chest as she wondered what he had done this time. She came to a halt just in front of him as he looked up and smiled at her.

“What are you doing here?” she questioned.

Not that she was unhappy to see him. In fact, this promised to be a great way to improve a day that hadn't started so well. But he was unfailingly courteous of her, and he never just dropped by unannounced, even though she’d keyed him into her wards weeks ago.

“Happy birthday, love, I brought you breakfast,” he indicated the items in his arms, “I wasn’t expecting you to be up so early, it was meant to be a surprise.”

Tears welled up in her eyes at his thoughtfulness. She rubbed them away viciously, refusing to react so stereotypically; she would not be ruled by her hormones. He regarded her actions suspiciously but wisely said nothing.

“How did you get breakfast from Paris?” she asked in an attempt to distract them both.

“Claire arrived with it a few minutes ago, but it’s not all from France. Effie insisted on sending some of your favorites too, I swear that bloody elf likes you better than me now,” he groused, his lips curling into that familiar sneer.

She wasn't fooled. Effie would do absolutely anything for Draco, and not because of their bond, but because she just adored him, and she adored Hermione for his sake, and as a thank you for making him happy and filling his previously lonely hours. Hermione processed what he had just told her.

“You asked your cousin to wake up before sunrise, apparate from Lyon to Paris, pick up breakfast from a muggle cafe, and then portkey it all to you?” she surmised.  
Draco shrugged like it was no big deal.

It was.

International portkeys were expensive and required so much paperwork that Hermione always used muggle means when she traveled to the continent. This breakfast delivery had taken considerable planning and coin. Draco would think nothing of the galleons he'd spent for such a simple thing, but she couldn't help but marvel at the consideration he'd put into making her day special.

“She comes every couple of months to visit London and pop in on my parents,” he shrugged,

“I just asked if she wouldn’t mind if this trip coincided with your birthday.”

Hermione felt overwhelmed, as she had often in the last weeks, she was learning to temper her reaction.

“That was very generous of her,” she said calmly, “Should I meet her while she’s here, thank her?”

He hesitated.

“She doesn’t feel right meeting you before my parents have.”

There was no censure in his voice, but she felt a stab of guilt. He hadn't pressured her in any way, but she knew she was the only one who still desired secrecy for their relationship.  
He didn't seem to notice the hesitation his words had caused and just placed the basket and tray down on her coffee table and took her into his arms.

“So, happy birthday,” he reiterated, gently kissing her forehead, she tilted her head to give him a real kiss, thankful she had already brushed her teeth.

“Thank you,” she murmured against his lips, “and thank you for all of this, it was really thoughtful.”

“Of course, if I could have talked you into taking the day off we would have gone to Paris ourselves instead of settling for delivery,” he growled into her ear, she shivered.

He’d tried to talk her into it, oh how he'd tried. She blushed when she thought of some of the tactics he'd used. He was bound and determined to spoil her.

It was hard for her to accept. She’d never wanted for anything in her life, but her parents were imminently practical and she simply wasn’t used to the kind of luxury that Draco thought was perfectly normal. The kind he lavished her with on a regular basis.

She’d almost fainted when she’d seen the bill for the custom made Egyptian cotton sheets he’d ordered for the bed in the master bedroom at the glen castle. He’d argued that the bed- a magnificent piece of furniture hewn out of the rock- was larger than any standard sized bed, and that he’d had to have them specially made. She’d argued that he could have used a less expensive material.

She thought she'd won that argument until she'd come home from work the next day to find her bed made up in its own set of new sheets which were crafted from Draco's preferred Egyptian cotton. Already laundered, she knew there was no returning them from wherever they’d come. So, rather than throwing a fit, which had been her first inclination, she decided to enjoy them.

One night sleeping on them and she wanted to curse him for a point well, if obnoxiously, made. Her heart hadn't even really been into it when she'd lectured him on his high handed behavior. Because resting between those sheets was like sleeping in a cloud.

She was exasperated and determined to find a way to curb what she believed to be excessive spending on her, when suddenly it had occurred to her that Draco had a past which informed his expectations just like she did. He was a Malfoy and excess was normal to him.

She’d remembered what a spoiled child he had been, and could only assume that he probably associated affection with the giving and receiving of material goods. On the rare occasion that he spoke of his parents they certainly didn't sound demonstratively loving, instead he'd had every material advantage and that's how he'd known he was cared for. Which meant that she'd have to tread carefully lest he take her rejection of his gifts as a rejection of him.

“I’m just twenty-one, it’s not like it’s even a special birthday,” she deflected.

“It's the anniversary of the day you were born, they’re all special,” he countered.

He was standing with his large hands cupping her biceps, his thumbs rubbing hypnotic patterns across her shoulders. She leaned her forehead against his chest and sighed, he had made it a point to show her he believed that to be true.

He'd already, miraculously, gotten them a reservation for that evening at a restaurant which she’d mentioned-merely in passing- she was dying to try. A muggle restaurant, for which it usually took months to get a reservation, and that she never would have been able to afford on her own. She had no idea how he’d done it, but it had taken the sting out of the fact that Harry and Ron had scheduled themselves to work the night shift that day, putting off the celebration with her friends for the weekend.

That had been the subject of one of their first fights. He had been enraged on her behalf that her best friends hadn’t made time to see her on her birthday, and she had automatically defended them.

“ _It's no big deal, Draco, I’ll see them that weekend,” she'd asserted._

_“When was the last time you missed one of their birthdays?” he challenged in return._

_“That’s different, Molly always has a big to do and I go to that.”_

_He threw his hands in the air._

_“So, because she can’t be bothered to do anything for you, they shouldn’t either?” he scoffed._

_“Like I said, it’s not a big deal, we’ll get together over the weekend when they are free.”_

_“Why are you the one who has to make time for them, even for your own birthday? I just don’t understand why you hold them to a different standard. You wouldn’t make plans on one of their birthdays, why shouldn't you expect them to extend you the same courtesy?” he insisted._

_“Well it’s not just any plans, it’s work,” she reasoned._

_He’d given her a long searching look._

_“You and I both know Potter and Weasley are the darlings of the auror department, if not the whole Ministry. If they say they can’t work on a certain day nobody will argue. Your birthday falls on the same day every year, it’s not like they didn’t have plenty of notice,” he pointed out._

_She refused to admit to him that he had a point, that her feelings were hurt, standing up for them was an ingrained reaction. He'd eventually let it go._

“Shall we eat?” Draco's voice cut through her reverie.

She nodded eagerly and pulled away to make her way over to her sofa, knowing he preferred it to the table. He had become rather enamored of dining casually. The rigidity of life at Malfoy Manor stifled him and she took great pride in providing him with a place where he could behave as he pleased.

When she turned back towards him, she found that he had not moved but was staring at her with a small frown on his face.

“What?”

“Do you feel well, love?”

“I’m fine, why do you ask?”

He regarded her through narrowed eyes, “no, there’s something wrong.”

“Well I did just wake up,” she snapped.

“And you look beautiful,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “but something is off, something is wrong with your scent and your gait is different.”

“My gait?”she asked cocking one eyebrow in disbelief, she knew he had his super sensitive veela senses and all, but that just sounded ridiculous.

“I don’t understand what would account for those changes...” he looked down, brow creased in contemplation, “oh,” he blurted, head jerking up to look at her.

She sighed, almost afraid to ask, “what?”

“You’re menstruating,” he said simply.

Oh how she wished she hadn't asked.

“Oh God, how do you know that,” she moaned, squeezing her eyes shut as the mortification sank in.

“I told you, your scent and your gait.”

She covered her face with her hands, desperately trying to hide herself.

“Are you telling me that you can smell that I’m...bleeding?” she asked, even as she wondered why she was still questioning him because she really did not want to talk about this, but she couldn't just leave it there.

“It’s not exactly like that.”

“Well what is it like?” ground out through clenched teeth, her frustration quickly rising.

“Why are you upset?” he seemed genuinely confused.

“Because it's disgusting, the last thing I want is for you to have a front row seat to my bodily functions!” she said as she ripped her hands away from her face and lurched towards him,

“Like I'm sure you find me so desirable right now!” she hissed sarcastically  
His eyes flared, “actually I do, just like I always do! What is so disgusting about the normal cycles of your body that indicate you are a healthy woman of childbearing age?”

“There are just somethings you don’t want the man you-” she stumbled over her phrasing- had she just been about to call him the man that she loved?

“The man you’re romantically involved with,” she quickly interjected, “to know.”

“Well I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. I feel like perhaps you’re misunderstanding anyway, it’s nothing gruesome or unseemly. A couple of weeks ago you scented as fertile, and now you simply don’t. It’s just another way for me to know when and how you need to be taken care of, when the time comes it will help me get you pregnant.”

Well that didn't sound quite as bad as she’d thought, even if it was still invasive, but she was getting used to the fact that there were many things that were just going to be different with their relationship. Some for good, some for ill, it was a trade off, but so far the positives far outweighed the negatives. She took a deep breath to center herself.

“And this whole subject doesn’t freak you out?”

“Not at all, why would it?”

“In my experience most men are squeamish about it.”

“Well I don't know why. Like I said, it’s perfectly natural. It’s an indication that you’ll successfully be able to bear our children one day. Is this perhaps a cultural difference between muggles and wizards?”

“All of my friends are magical, so I don’t think so.”

He shrugged.

“Reproduction is just so essential in pureblood circles I assumed everybody was made familiar with these issues. How can a couple not be expected to deal with them together? I know I consider any insight I get that will allow me to make you more comfortable to be welcome.”

“I suppose I don’t have any friends who are exactly what you would call traditional purebloods, except for Neville, and we’ve never discussed this.”

“Don't hide from me Hermione,” he said softly, her eyes snapped to his and only then did she realize that she’d been avoiding looking at him again, and had scooted away from him on the couch.

She sighed, her cheeks were heated, but she could feel the blood beginning to recede along with her embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I’d say that I’m moody because of my hormones, but I’m not going to make excuses,” she shot him a hesitant smile.

He chuckled and approached her cautiously, slowly reaching out to cup one pinkened cheek.

“This from the woman who has gone toe to toe with some of the most terrifying wizards in the world. Felled by talk of her period!” he castigated her goodnaturedly.

Quick as a flash she turned her head and nipped at his palm in retribution. He let out a girly little squeak of surprise, and she laughed.

“There’s the witch I know,” he smiled at her, eyes adoring, “can I try something?”  
She looked at him for any indication of what he intended, watching as he snatched one of the cups he'd brought off of the coffee table and then arranged himself against the arm of the sofa, stretching his long legs in front of him on the cushions.

“Come here?” he requested, gesturing to the space he’d created for her in the vee of his legs.

She scrambled to situate herself, her back supported by his chest. He handed her the cup with one hand and reached around her body to her abdomen with the other. Slowly he tunneled under her shirt, and then even more carefully beneath the waistband of her sleep pants and laid his hand against the place over her womb. Almost immediately she relaxed, the heat of his large hand worked in the same way something like a hot water bottle would. That, combined with the way his touch always affected her, was better than any drug. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been until the tension dissipated.

She took a sip of the hot beverage he’d handed her and moaned aloud when she realized it was not the coffee she’d expected but a rich, thick hot chocolate that hit the spot. She craned her neck to look at him questioningly. He shrugged.

“I do my research, when I asked around about this cafe I learned they were rather famous for their hot chocolate. You didn’t know that?”

She shook her head.

“There’s cafe au lait for you too, but I know your propensity for chocolate, so I thought it was worth a try.”

“Perfect,” she muttered as she let her head fall heavily back against his chest.

She lounged, cocooned in his scent and warmth, the soothing feel of his heartbeat along with his steady breathing. She found an easy peace in the sensations and began to drift off. After a few minutes she felt him take the cup out of her unwittingly slack grip.

“Love,” his voice rumbled in his chest and she hummed in satisfaction and rubbed her cheek against his robes, “take the day off of work,” he cajoled.

“Mmm-kay,” she agreed easily, why in the world would she want to leave this place?

Somewhere seemingly far away she heard him call for Effie, and a few minutes after that he was giving her instructions to send off some owls. She couldn’t be bothered to figure out what he was up to. At some point he brought his other hand under her clothes as well and gently began to knead her abdominal muscles with his thumbs. Her thoughts began to wander.  
He felt so good. He would keep her safe. This was where she was meant to be. She loved him.

She loved him.

They had been together almost exactly a month. And that time felt both forever and the blink of an eye. On one hand she almost couldn't remember what it was like before him, but on the other, time flew when they were together. She had found with him something she’d been seeking her entire life: a place where she belonged.

It had started to become a reality to her when they’d first kissed and she’d recognized that something beautiful was happening between them. But at that point she’d just recognized it’s extraordinary nature, she hadn’t realized how much safety and acceptance she would come to find in their relationship. She couldn’t have known, because it wasn’t something she had ever felt before, or even real known existed.

He fought for her, when she doubted him, when she doubted herself. He didn’t walk away, he didn’t just let it be and hope she got over it. He made her feel like a priority, like she was worth it. In the past it had always fallen to her to do that for her friends, she never had anybody do it for her.

She fought for him too, through his lingering self-hatred. When she saw the way his eyes drifted over that nasty mark on his left forearm, when he refused to look at it altogether, and tried to hide it from her. When he blatantly stated that he didn't deserve her, she simply refused to allow it.

It felt right to be the take to his give, as often as she was the give to his take. Neither was exclusively the caretaker or the caregiver, theirs was a relationship of equals. There was freedom in that.

And so, she wasn’t afraid to fight with him. Not because it was the right thing to do despite the consequences, but because he wanted the truth of her, wanted to know what she really thought. For the first time there was security in being herself; he wouldn’t just abandon her for disagreeing with him.

And disagree they did. They fought like cats and dogs. His opinions on the rights of most magical creatures were sadly outdated. He could be so irritatingly condescending about her views on magical theory that, on one occasion, she’d actually pulled some of her hair out in frustration. And every time he called her one of his stupid and overly sappy pet names, with that look in his eyes that told her that he just knew how much he was annoying her, she considered kicking him. One day she would probably give in to the urge.

She wondered if this was why Harry was so devoted to Ginny and the Weasleys. If he felt this kind of total acceptance not just with his fiancé but within the bosom of a family that had, unfortunately, always felt a bit of an ill fit for her. And that made her consider something she never had before: maybe this was how it was supposed to be.

She'd told Draco, everybody who would listen actually, that friendships changed as you got older. Circumstances changed, relationships evolved. It had been a logical way to explain the distance between herself and her two best friends in the aftermath of the war.  
And she had believed it, to an extent. It was the feeling of being left behind that had been so difficult for her to deal with.

But maybe she hadn't been left behind. Maybe the three of them had reached a fork in the road after the war and chosen separate paths. Her path had led her to Draco. Their separation had given her room to choose him, to see that he was her home.

She would always love Harry and Ron, but they would never again walk the same, or even parallel paths. And that was okay. But now that she recognized this and was coming from a place of acceptance and not defensiveness, maybe she could build some bridges between their separate paths. She had to wonder if they may have been trying to build their own bridges to her, and she'd been blind to their efforts, she generally caught onto things faster than they did, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

Regardless, next time, she decided, she would call them out when they hurt her feelings. When they disregarded her birthday or failed to include her in an important event, she should tell them that it hurt. Their actions were their own, but it was her fault for just allowing them  
to get away with it.

And if it made them angry, well they weren’t all she had anymore. She had Andromeda and Teddy, who welcomed her into their home whenever she needed a few minutes, or a few days of refuge. The unconditional maternal love Andromeda had offered her was a gift beyond measure, and Teddy’s very presence was a balm to any wound.

And she had other friends. Neville for one who, if she was being honest, had been her first friend and her most constant companion. At Hogwarts he’d been so painfully shy, and she so wrapped up in her studies and her adventures with Harry and Ron, that neither had appreciated their bond, especially her. But she did now, and he was often the first one she went to when she needed to talk.

She and his girlfriend Hannah Abbot as well as her best friend, who also happened to be Neville’s auror partner, Susan Bones, were also becoming good friends. Her friendships with women had always been more difficult for her, but once they witnessed Neville’s admiration of her, and hers for him in return, they'd been nothing but welcoming. They were certainly good for a night out or a brunch with the girls.

Luna was hardly home anymore. She spent most of her time traveling the world searching for her magical creatures. But she was a faithful and fascinating pen pal, a rare source of intellectual stimulation, and their correspondence was valuable to both women who were so familiar with what it felt to be lonely.

And most importantly there was now Draco, her friend, her confidant, her lover, if not yet completely. She finally felt what it was to be put first. She would never be without a safe place to land. She only hoped she could provide him with the same tranquility of mind.

It might have been because she had gotten a thorough rest, or it might have been due to these wonderful realizations, but it was with a deep sense of peace and satisfaction that she returned back to full wakefulness a short while later, stretching and instinctively pressing her body further into his.

“Hey,” she said, her voice sleep roughened as she peered up to get a look at his face.

He was gazing at her with pure unveiled adoration. Her breath caught.

“I love you Draco.”

His hands clenched her hips reflexively and then immediately relaxed. His eyes fell shut, and his chin dropped to the crook of her neck. She felt his breathing increase and she momentarily feared his reaction, and regretted speaking without thinking.

“Are you sure?” he asked urgently, “you need to be sure.”

His desperation told her more about his feelings than anything else, if she stupidly retracted her declaration it would break his heart.

“Of course I’m sure,” she rushed to reassure him, “I love you so much, I won’t pretend to know exactly when it started, but I have for awhile now.”

He released a long breath against her neck

“It was the glen that did it, wasn’t it?” he attempted to tease.

She was having none of it.

“No,” she said firmly, “the glen is wonderful. But nothing you could ever give me could have done it. It’s you, take away everything else and it’s still you. Tell me you understand that.”

There was a pause, too long for her liking.

“That must have been some nap,” he quipped.

She nearly growled in frustration and flipped over so that she was facing him, though she had to crane her neck rather uncomfortably to look at his face.

“Look,” she commanded.

“Pardon?”

“Look into my mind, I want you to see.”

His eyes went wide and she saw his adam’s apple bob.

“I’m serious, I want you to know.”

She wasn’t sure what it would be like, she’d never had anybody use legilimency on her before. She knew it could be painful, but she trusted him to be gentle with her. They had worked on her occlumency together and while he’d yet to test her defenses, she thought she knew enough that she could show him what she wanted him to see without him having to search blindly through her mind.

Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to read her emotions, but she was sure she could present her memories to him in a way that he would understand how she felt. He would quite literally be able to see how she viewed him. She wanted him to see how beautiful she found him, and in a way that had nothing to do with how mouth wateringly attractive he was.

Stormy grey met cinnamon brown challengingly. She knew he was waiting for her to look away, deny him that kind of unfettered access. She refused, she wanted him to see how thoroughly she trusted him. So, she just continued to stare at him, meeting his challenge as she brought the memories she wanted him to see to the forefront of her mind. After a few moments she heard him murmur the incantation.

It felt like being pulled underwater, except without the fear or the aching for breath, she just suddenly found herself in a different and more limiting environment where her senses were muted. But before she’d even truly taken stock of the sensation it was abruptly gone. She felt a second of fear that she’d somehow messed it all up, and then his lips were on hers.

“Thank you,” he growled between kisses, “thank you, that was amazing, I love you so much.”

“I didn't do it wrong? You were barely in there for a second.”

“Not wrong at all, you were brilliant, you pushed so much towards me. It's not like viewing it in real time, I can basically absorb it all at once when you willingly provide it,” he pulled back and there was a long pause as he drank her in, “Truly Hermione?”

She nodded frantically and started to kiss him again, she didn't know exactly what he'd seen, but she knew how she felt for him. She sobbed into his mouth, too overjoyed to find another way to release her emotions. She wished she could blame her hormones.

He rearranged them so that he was flat on his back and she was stretched out on top of him. She could feel how much he wanted her, and for the first time was not the least bit embarrassed or intimidated. But, despite his physical reaction, he didn’t seem to be feeling particularly amorous- which was good because she certainly wouldn’t be up for any of that for a few days- and he slowed their frantic snogging and ran a soothing hand up and down her back.

When he began to comb his other hand carefully through her curls and she knew she was in danger of falling back to sleep she spoke up.

“We should tell people.”

“I’m sorry?”

“We should tell people about us. It would be wrong not to now. It would be hiding, and I don’t have anything to hide.”

He relaxed beneath her.

“I’m enjoying the muggle world, but I’d like to show you off in ours,” he admitted.

Enjoying was an understatement. The man was in danger of becoming obsessed with muggle technology. She'd heard him talking to himself more than once about getting a place in London where he could keep electronics which would be useless inside the wards at the glen. Still, she took his point, and it was rather astounding to be something he was so proud of.

“This weekend,” she promised, “I’ll talk to my friends when we get together this weekend.

Just let me know when you want me to meet your parents.”

“And there's my Gryffindor,” he chuckled fondly.

“But you love me anyway.”

“I do.”

“I love you too.”

Happy birthday to her indeed.


	15. Christmas 15

Chapter 15

“Draco, darling, how good of you to join us,” his mother greeted him the next night when he arrived at the Manor for dinner.

Draco sighed. ‘Dear,’ ‘dearest,’ and even ‘my dragon’- when she was feeling particularly nostalgic- were perfectly normal terms of endearment, but when Narcissa Malfoy called her only child ‘darling,’ he knew he was in trouble.

“Isn’t it good of him to join us Lucius? You do still live here don’t you Draco?” she asked bitingly.

He had wondered when she would confront him, he had been rather MIA for the past month, and he knew she'd been growing increasingly annoyed by his frequent unexplained absences, but he’d had a witch to woo. She was going to have to get used to him being elsewhere anyway, he loved his mother but he wouldn't shackle Hermione to this house for her sake.

“I apologize Mother, it’s been a busy few weeks. I promise you I have a good explanation.”

“Is that explanation the reason you wanted to speak with us?” his father said icily, taping his walking stick against the toe of his boot in a sure sign of impatience.

Lucius was in a mood. _Wonderful_. Not that that was unusual, but it was the last thing he needed.

Draco kept his features schooled as he bypassed the drinks cart without pouring himself anything, nor did bother to take a seat, but just stood before his parents and began to unbutton his robes.

“This discussion requires you to disrobe?” Lucius asked, voice still haughty but also faintly disbelieving at the idea of his son undressing in one of the formal sitting rooms.

He paused briefly and met his father’s gaze, refusing to be cowed by the man’s attitude, “why yes Father, actually it does. Don’t worry, I needn’t undress completely, but I don’t think there’s anything improper about my own parents seeing my bare chest.”

Lucius merely cocked one brow in his direction, in his younger years that would have sent him scurrying, today he had no trouble ignoring it. Draco set his robes aside and started on his shirt. Once that was gone he turned his left arm so that it was facing upward, and extended it towards them. His mother gasped out loud.

He looked up to see that she had a hand over mouth and her eyes were rapidly filling with tears which she appeared to be working hard to keep from falling. His father had just gone completely still.

Following the Dark Lord’s death his Mark had faded slightly so that it appeared to be almost purple in color, but it had also bubbled up and developed into ropey scar tissue that made it almost more hideous than it had been originally. Though, at least it had no longer moved. He avoided looking at it at all costs.

So, over the past few weeks, when it appeared to have started to fade again, he'd chalked it up to wishful thinking. Until this morning.

He’d spent the night with Hermione, unwilling to part from her, and she seemed to feel the same way. They’d been awake into the wee hours of the morning kissing and touching and whispering their love for one another. It wasn’t the first time he’d spent the night, but it was the first time he hadn’t felt like a visitor in her bed. It had been a revelation.

His wake up call hadn't been nearly as wonderful. He'd actually been brought back to consciousness by the sound of his beloved weeping. It had given him an entirely new definition for the word ‘terrified.’

But then he’d followed her line of sight to his arm and saw the mark, which had faded to a light grey, his skin as soft and smooth as it had ever been. He nearly started crying himself.

“Look what we did, Draco,” she’d sniffled when she realized he was awake, running her fingers over his forearm reverently, “look what our love did.”

He didn’t know how he knew, but he was sure that she was right, that their feelings were driving the remaining dark magic away and making the mark disappear; it couldn’t survive amongst such a pure connection. Words had power and her declaration of love the day before and his in return seemed to have speeded up the process.

The visible proof of the power of their love had almost overwhelmed him. He'd held her while he road that tidal wave of feelings until they were both almost late for work.

“How is that possible?” his mother choked out.

He smiled softly at her, “well, that has to do with the other thing I have to show you,” he said, and without warning he transformed.

His mother jumped to her feet and his father might as well have turned to stone.

She reached out a trembling hand towards him, “I always wondered, but I never really thought…” she sighed, “oh this is incredible. May I?” she asked.

“Of course, Mother.”

She stepped towards him and just drank in the differences in him for several long moments before she carefully began to stroke his wings, “oh my beautiful boy,” she pulled him into an embrace, “I always knew you were special, but this is something else. You are going to revive our Houses. Thank the gods.”

He closed his eyes, basking in the feeling of her open affection. When was the last time she’d hugged him? After the Battle of Hogwarts? And that had been sheer desperation. He knew that she loved him, but she hadn't openly expressed that in any way since he was a small child, and even then his father had not approved.

“I love you Mother,” he murmured into her ear, Hermione was really rubbing off him.

She froze momentarily and he worried that he’d overstepped, but then she pulled back and raised her hands to cup his face, “I love you too, my sweet boy. Oh you have to tell me everything! Lucius, don’t you have something to say to our son!” she called.

She dropped her hands and looked at her husband.

“I was unaware that there was anything about veela magic that would have caused your Mark to fade,” he commented, voice devoid of emotion.

Draco swore he could actually feel his mother glaring at the man.

He just shrugged, he hadn’t expected better, “it’s not about my magic, at least not by itself, it’s because of my connection to my mate. We’re fairly certain that when we complete our bonding it will drive it out completely,” he willed himself not to show any embarrassment at that admission.

His mother clapped her hands excitedly, “you’ve found her! Who is she, do I know her, what’s she like?”

He stifled a laugh, his usually perfectly poised mother sounded like an excitable schoolgirl.

“Now I understand why you've been out so often,” she continued, “of course you wanted to spend your time with her in private, I know that the initial stages are supposed to be very intense.”

She turned back to Draco, absolutely beaming, and he couldn't help but return the smile, he’d never seen her like this, “oh, there is going to be a wedding, this is just wonderful!”

He chuckled as he transformed back and donned his shirt.

“Slow down Mother, I haven’t asked her yet.”

“But she’s your mate, surely she knows what that means!”

“She does,” he nodded, “but I still intend to do this the right way, she deserves no less.”

She seemed to consider that for a moment, “Of course,” she said in agreement, “of course you are right,” she returned to her armchair and placed her hands primly in her lap, “now you must tell us about her.”

Draco retreated to a sofa and took a deep breath; this was the moment of truth, if this went badly he might be leaving this house for the last time tonight. That possibility bothered him more than he'd thought it would.

“You are familiar with her, but you’ve never been properly introduced. Her name is Hermione Granger.”

“What?!” his father roared.

While his mother just let out a small strangled sound.

“It’s true, I was surprised too,” he rolled his eyes to himself as he remembered the not-so-minor breakdown he’d had following that revelation.

“You must be mistaken, there is no way that a mud-”

“STOP!” he shouted, glaring at his father, “you will never use that disgusting word in my presence again.”

Lucius looked momentarily surprised, but then his nostrils flared in obvious fury.

“You presume to tell me how to behave, boy?” he asked I'm a low, dangerous voice which, when he actually had been a boy, would have stopped Draco in his tracks.

But he was a man now, a fully grown wizard with a witch to consider, and he was no longer blind to his father’s faults. The other man was on the wrong side of this issue.

“I am telling you what behavior I will not tolerate,” he explained, unflinching, “I am here of my own free will, I can easily leave. Hermione is my mate, if you force me to choose between you and her it will not be a difficult decision, especially because I don’t especially enjoy being in this house anymore.”

His magic itched with the urge to transform, it recognized Lucius for the threat that he was and he wondered if he'd be able to handle him and Hermione in the same space.

“Lucius,” his mother said quietly, but there was something about her tone that was downright frightening, “do not drive our son away, you will not enjoy the consequences,” she warned.

Draco felt his eyes widen in surprise. His parents marriage was a love match for sure, and his father valued his mother’s opinion. But he'd certainly never seen her stand up to him like that before. Even more surprising was the way the man demurred, sitting back in his chair and letting the conversation continue without any sort of protest.

His mother then turned back to Draco and gave him a watery smile, “how does Miss Granger feel about this? I’ve heard that she’s brilliant, but I can imagine that the connection a veela shares with his mate might be difficult for her to understand, given her upbringing outside of our community, as well as your history,” he didn’t think he imagined the way she flicked her eyes in the direction of the drawing room.

He had considered how to handle this topic and had ultimately decided not to mince words.

“She's a remarkable witch. She was kind to me even before she knew what we were to each other, and has since told me that she forgives me for the past.”

“Will she ever be comfortable with us though?” she actually wrung her hands, “I don't want to lose you, dearest,” she added more quietly.

“She has already agreed to meet you, in fact it was her idea. But to be honest it may be some time before she's willing to visit the Manor, and I will not push her. As long you treat her with respect, Mother, you are in no danger of losing me, but she must be my first priority.”

“Of course, of course,” she gave him another smile, this one almost wistful, “you will be a good husband, she is very lucky.”

That unexpected expression of pride was more than he ever could have wished for from this conversation.

“How do you expect her to live here if she cannot even bring herself to come here to meet your parents?” Lucius asked scathingly, predictably bursting Draco’s bubble of happiness.

“I don't intend for her to live here,” he retorted immediately, and in his irritation more sharply than intended.

“Malfoys always marry and then bring their brides to live in our ancestral home. You would break a thousand years of tradition for this weak willed girl?”

Draco’s temper flared, “Ah but you forget, Father, that I am, quite untraditionally, not just Scion Malfoy, but Lord Black. At this juncture my loyalty is greater to House Black, it would be completely appropriate for us to reside at a Black property and properly re-establish the House,” he just stared at him until he actually tilted his head in acquiescence, “And there is nothing weak willed about Hermione, she is the strongest, most courageous person I have ever met. There is nothing weak about not wanting to live in a house where you were brutally tortured and very nearly murdered. It's called being human, something I often wonder if you are.”

The only sound in the room was that of Draco’s ragged breathing as he tried to wrap his mind around what he'd just dared to say. He halfway expected to feel his father’s walking stick come down across his shoulders, but nobody moved.

He tried to summon some of Hermione’s Gryffindor courage.

“I apologize Father, I didn't mean that,” at least he usually didn't, “it is just very difficult for me to think about that night and I lost my temper. If she hadn't survived, I would have lost everything before I even found it,” he attempted to explain.

“That must have been very difficult for you to come to terms with once you realized who she was,” his mother said quietly.

“It was agony,” he blurted, in for a Knut in for a galleon, “I even considered not telling her, just leaving her to live her life in peace.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, he knew she would consider that to be unthinkable.

“But I just couldn't,” he explained, “and now that she's accepted me, it’s like I was living in the dark and she turned on the light, I could never go back,” he squirmed, he couldn't believe these words were coming out of his mouth, and to _his_ _parents_ , and yet he didn't stop, “she lied to Bellatrix you know, that night, that sword was the real thing, without it they couldn't have won the war, so she lied through everything that woman,” he spat the word did to her, “did to her."

One night a couple of weeks previous she'd had one glass of wine too many with dinner, and decided to tell him a tale of horcruxes and hallows; his heart had been in his throat the whole time. He'd nearly lost her so many times.

He finally looked up to see that his mother had one hand pressed to her chest and looked completely stricken, he didn't know what to do except just keep talking, “she's magnificent, Mother, I’ll never deserve her, but she loves me anyway,” he gave her a small smile, "your grandchildren are going to be magnificent as well.”

She reached across the space between them and took his hand, then, in concert they looked at Lucius. He was just staring at them, an inscrutable expression on his face. His mother squeezed his hand and he turned back to her.

“The palace in the valley is a real place,” he told her, finally something he was sure she'd be happy to hear, “Hermione is completely taken with it, as am I, and that is where we intend to make our home.”

“May I see it?” she asked, voiced laced with awe.

“Of course, Mother, actually, Hermione and I discussed it, we wondered if you'd like to come to to dinner on Friday night, she's anxious to show you, she has some idea what it might mean to you.”

“Oh?”  
“She’s seen Aunt Andromeda’s reaction, she's gauged how special it is to the family.”

“Andromeda?” she gasped, open longing in her eyes that shocked Draco, he felt like he was learning a great deal about his mother today.

“She is something of a surrogate mother to Hermione, and Hermione is her grandson’s godmother as well, I'm sure she could be persuaded to join us for dinner if you'd like.”

“I would like to see her, I had considered getting in touch...after, but I wasn't sure how I'd be received.”

He tried his best to look sympathetic, but it wasn't something that came naturally to him.

“She asked after you, and father too, when I first met her, she's been really welcoming to me.”

“Well, I think we shall have to meet you and your witch for dinner on Friday, right Lucius?”

Draco got the feeling that question was actually a command, and he had to wonder if things between his parents had changed or if, now that he had Hermione, he was just seeing them differently.

“I suppose,” he grumbled, he almost sounded like a petulant child.

They talked around him for the rest of the night, it was awkward, but it wasn't as terrible as he would have imagined. And then, before he left to return to Hermione his father shook his hand, and he had the strangest feeling he'd somehow earned the man's respect. And if that was true, well that was damnably ironic.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The only sounds in the room were the scraping of cutlery against china, and Teddy softly singing to himself in between bites, blissfully unaware of the tension between the adults which was so thick it felt oppressive even in this cavernous space. It had started well enough...

When she and Draco had decided to issue the dinner invitation to his parents, she had done so because she knew it was unavoidable, and she wanted to get it over with. But that had been before they had even known he was a veela, and it wasn't until he'd visited them that reality sunk in: she was going to socialize with Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. By this morning she had been a nervous wreck.

She tried to tell herself that her nerves were irrational, that they were just Draco’s parents and she’d faced much scarier things. But that wasn't exactly true, and they weren’t just Draco’s parents. His mother was one thing, Hermione even had slightly warm feelings about the woman who’d saved Harry’s life. But Lucius Malfoy was another story.

Because for a long time he had been the face of evil in her mind. Her personal boogeyman. And for good reason, he had been the real threat, the human threat who could just march into her school any time he wanted, and had done so on more than one occasion. Voldemort’s name had made her cringe, but she hadn't even set eyes on him until the final battle. No, it was Lucius Malfoy’s cold eyes and haughty voice that haunted her nightmares.

That was not the kind of impression that just went away, no matter how much he resembled the man who held her heart.

She’d been shaking when they'd arrived at the glen. Herself, Andromeda, and Teddy through the floo that Draco had connected solely between the castle and Andromeda’s home; and he with his parents via side-along apparition. But she'd gotten herself under control, and the introductions had gone relatively smoothly. There had been one awkward moment when Lucius had visibly hesitated to take her hand in greeting, but it was quickly brushed aside. She wasn't even particularly insulted, she hadn't expected better.

And then they'd quickly become distracted by the emotion of the two sisters meeting for the first time in nearly thirty years, and after that by the tour of the castle. Narcissa was almost beside herself with delight, and the two Malfoys made quite a picture, Narcissa beaming and bouncing at her stoic husband's side. Effie and the glen elves had made sure Hermione had plenty of stories about the history of the glen and the Black family to give a thorough tour.

Effie had quickly made friends with the villagers, though Hermione got the distinct impression that she pitied the other elves for not having a proper family. But she worked in tandem with them to ensure the castle was well on its way to being fully restored to its former glory, and it was even more impressive now than it had been when Draco had first shown it to her.

The faithful elf took so much pride in the place that Hermione had offered to allow her to be the one to give the tour. But apparently that just wasn't done. As the hostess it was Hermione’s job, Effie was happy behind the scenes preparing their meal.

So, up to that point things had gone better than Hermione ever expected, almost like a normal family gathering. It was when they sat down at the large round table that Hermione had picked out for the dining room (she didn't delight in comparisons to King Arthur, but she did want to avoid anybody being seated at the head of a table, she wanted her home to be a place of equals) that things got difficult. Because they actually had to speak to each other, instead of listening to the stories Hermione told, or simply commenting on the features of the castle. And in trying to do so the full weight of the issues between them sunk in and created the almost unbearable tension in the air.

Hermione found herself stuck in a moment of awkward indecision as to what to do or say next and could only assume the others felt the same way. She suspected that the longer the silence stretched the more difficult it would be to break, she'd-somewhat unfairly- expected Draco to manage the conversation, but he was just quietly eating.

She looked around for something to distract her attention and she noticed that Teddy, who- in an unprecedented fit of jealousy- had insisted on sitting between herself and Draco, was struggling to eat his pasta manageably, so she carefully took his utensils and cut it for him.

“Miss Granger,” Mrs. Malfoy said suddenly, “do you like children?”

Hermione looked up to see that the other witch was watching her actions very closely.

“It’s Hermione, please, ma’am,” she insisted as she finished cutting Teddy’s meal and handed it back to him.

Narcissa dipped her head in acknowledgement, “Narcissa then, please.”

Hermione nodded, “I couldn’t really say,” she admitted, “I mean, I love Teddy, but I haven’t had a lot of exposure to other children. I’m an only child of only children, and before I went to Hogwarts I was really too young to do any babysitting. After, well, I was always so busy, not that anybody would have trusted me with their child,” she scoffed, realizing too late that she’d said too much.

“Why wouldn't they have trusted you with their child?” Narcissa wondered.

Draco and Andromeda made noises as if to interrupt, they knew this was a sensitive subject, but she waved them off.

“People didn't know that I had magic, but that didn’t keep the effects of my accidental magic from being noticed. Everybody knew that weird things happened around me, sometimes they were dangerous things. I wouldn't have been thought reliable enough to watch other children,” she explained rather bitterly

“Muggles don't believe in magic,” Andromeda cut in, “the statute of secrecy is a success in that regard. But that doesn't mean that they don't seek explanations for oddities. As a result, true magic users are often ostracized in their community because their powers can't be explained. The muggles feel threatened,” she clarified.

“I see,” said Narcissa, “I hadn't considered that, it must have been difficult growing up in that community?” she asked tentatively.

It was interesting to watch a pureblood like Narcissa try to articulate that question. Hermione suspected this was the first time she had ever even thought about what it might be like to be a muggleborn.

"I'll admit I didn't have many friends,” Hermione said, “but I had loving, supportive parents who made sure I had activities to keep me busy. Though I think we were all relieved when Professor McGonagall arrived and explained that I was a witch. It was difficult for me to go off to Hogwarts, knowing so little about it, but we all had faith that I was finally going to a place where I belonged.”

There was another heavy silence as they all contemplated what she hadn’t said, which was that the Malfoys had done everything in their power to keep people like her from ever belonging, and if they’d had their way she never would have gotten anywhere near Hogwarts. Once again the sounds of a meal being consumed were the only ones filling the air.

“But you do want children,” Narcissa eventually said insistently.

Andromeda laughed lightly, “Very subtle Cissy.”

She shrugged elegantly, “I actually wasn’t attempting to be subtle,” she told her sister, then she turned back to look at Hermione, her gaze piercing, “I don’t mean to be intrusive, my dear, but Draco is an only child and the fate of two family lines rest with him. There are expectations that come with him.”

“Mother,” Draco said in a warning voice.

“It’s okay Draco,” she said quietly, she held the other woman’s gaze, “I know Draco’s responsibilities, I know that if he doesn’t have a son it will mean line extinction for two families. I assure you that I take those responsibilities seriously. I know that we come from different backgrounds and that probably concerns you, but I would never ask him to forget his heritage,” she paused and waited for Narcissa to nod in acknowledgement of what she'd just said.

“Furthermore,” she continued, “I do want children, I always have, but now I want Draco’s children. I’ll admit that it’s not something we’ve discussed in detail, but I don't see any issue with having at least two sons to carry on each family name, and perhaps more on top of that as well,” she snuck a peak at Draco to see if she'd overstepped, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that he was practically radiating happiness.

Narcissa gave her a small but genuine smile, “thank you,” she said quietly, but with such sincerity that Hermione’s eyes filled with tears at the force of emotion evoked.

“You have a baby in there?” Teddy said suddenly, diverting her attention.

She looked to see that he was pointing to her stomach.

At two and a half Teddy was at the age where many of the mothers of friends he'd made in his playgroup were pregnant, and as a result the whole subject had been as thoroughly explained to him as his toddler brain could handle. And he had clearly understood enough of the conversation to glean that they were talking about Hermione being pregnant, but he looked distinctly unimpressed by the possibility.

Between this and his display of jealousy earlier, Hermione knew that they would have to address the issue before it was too late and he was blindsided. She and Draco hadn't discussed it, but she just had a feeling that sooner, rather than later, she would be expecting.

“Not right now sweetheart, but someday NiNi would like to have a baby,” she explained carefully.

He screwed up his face and narrowed his eyes.

“You’re my NiNi!” he exclaimed, pounding his little fist on the table, his hair color cycling through several shades in his anger.

She reached over and took that hand, unfurling the fist and stroking it soothingly, “I will always be your NiNi,” she said fiercely, “but one day maybe you could learn to share me with some other little boys and girls,” she offered more gently.

“No!” he whipped his head around to glare daggers at Draco, “you go away!” he ordered, having correctly identified his cousin as the culprit for this change of events.

Draco froze and just blinked at him, obviously not knowing how to react.

“Teddy,” Andromeda intervened, “if you can’t be polite you’ll have to go sit quietly with Effie while the grown ups finish their meal.”

Her tone brokered no argument, it was intimidating even to Hermione. But she'd seen Teddy defy his grandmother before, and there was a tense moment when she was certain this little fit of pique was going to turn into a full blown tantrum; but then he just huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. It was the best they could hope for, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, she had unknowingly been using her godson as an emotional crutch and knew she'd have been even more uncomfortable if he was sent out of the room. She didn't even care if that made her a coward.

Narcissa cleared her throat, “what of your parents?” she asked, plowing onward with a subject change, the woman was more of a Gryffindor than Hermione ever would have imagined, “will we meet them soon?”

Hermione almost wanted to laugh, she probably thought she’d picked a safe topic when, in fact, this was out of the frying pan, and into the fire.

“I’m not sure if you'll ever meet them,” she replied honestly and without hesitation, thinking that maybe they could go ahead and get the most uncomfortable topics out of the way in one evening, “they know about Draco, but they haven't expressed any interest in meeting him.”

She took a sip of water.

“Nothing against him, we had a falling out several years ago. You see, despite the fact that I was the only muggleborn member of the Order of the Phoenix, on top of being Harry Potter's best friend, neither Dumbledore nor the Order as a whole ever saw fit to offer my parents any protection during the war,” she explained with not a little bitterness, “so, I did what I thought I had to for them. I altered their memories and I planted in their minds the idea that they wanted to move to Australia. It was the only thing I could come up with to protect my secrets and their lives.”

Narcissa had stopped eating at this point and was just staring at her, though she was poised enough to at least have set her utensils aside. Hermione had considered the irony, with a veela for a child the Malfoys were probably in a better position to understand how the Grangers felt, as muggles with a magical daughter, than almost anybody else. They had magic, but Draco was now much more powerful than them, and had abilities they wouldn't be able to defend themselves against.

She knew that Narcissa considered this to be some kind of fairy tale ending, and was probably certain that Draco would never use his powers against her, but she was also certain that a few years ago her parents would have said the same thing. And Draco had already demonstrated a willingness to do terrible things to protect his family. But Hermione didn't think the other woman was ready to hear that comparison, so she just continued on with her story.

“They were always supportive of me and my life in the magical world, but it was difficult for them to forgive me for taking something from them without their permission, something that they may never have gotten back. And more than that, after I restored their memories I had to explain why I’d changed them in the first place. I had to tell them that I had chosen to fight a war to save a society that had rejected me almost from the moment I joined it, rather than accompanying them into hiding. And now they have a whole new perspective of magic and what it’s capable of, and how it could be used against them. I can't blame them for keeping their distance, it must be something to be frightened of your own child,” she felt a familiar hand in her shoulder and looked up from where she'd been staring at her plate to see Draco, his eyes shining with love for her.

She sat up a little straighter.

“It’s a shame your own parents can’t appreciate your gifts,” Lucius chimed in for the first time, breaking the moment between her and his son, his tone was not one of commiseration, but of snide derision.

“Father,” Draco growled, his hand tightened on her shoulder.

But Hermione just smiled sweetly at the man, refusing to be cowed by his tiresome prejudice, “it is a shame, isn’t it? Perhaps if our society was a little more open and considerate of the needs of muggleborns, if we could help their families understand our world, it would ease their transition and prevent parents from being alienated from their children. Alas, few people seem interested in facilitating such a thing.”

“Perhaps,” he countered “muggleborns should stay in the muggle world, in the world where they were born.”

He’d said ‘where they were born’ but Hermione had no doubt that what he really meant was, ‘where they belong.’

It was sad, but fascinating, what bigotry could do to an otherwise intelligent person, and Hermione was about to counter his point by explaining what a disaster that idea would be for the statute of secrecy to have all these untrained wizards and witches running around in the muggle world, when Draco entered the conversation.

“I suppose you would condemn me to a life of loneliness then? That you would be happy to see the end of two Ancient and Noble Houses,” his eyes flashed dangerously, his voice sharp as a razor.

Hermione recognized the signs, he was on the verge of transforming and wrapping her protectively in his wings, because while it had been vague, his father had stupidly just threatened her. Hermione wondered if he man had any idea the thin ice he was treading.

“What are you talking about?” Lucius sneered in return.

“Need I remind you that Hermione is my mate? She is the only woman I will ever love, the only woman who can give me children. If you had your way, Father,” he hissed, “and she’d just been left to languish in the muggle world, in all likelihood I never would have found her, meaning a long lonely life for me, no grandchildren for you, and the end of the Malfoys and the Blacks.”

Lucius actually looked taken aback by that pronouncement.

“What do you mean, Draco?” Narcissa asked frantically.

Draco turned to his mother and his body language gentled.

“It’s all in our ancestors’ journals, Mother. They kept it a secret to protect their mates I’m sure, but it was very clearly spelled out that a veela mate isn’t just his perfect match, she is his only match. He cannot have a family with any other witch. My magic would prevent me from impregnating any of those pureblood princesses that I’m sure Father has in mind for me,” he cut his eyes to his other parent, lip curled in disgust.

Both Lucius and Narcissa looked alarmed at this information, though Hermione was certain it was for different reasons.

“You must keep this quiet Draco, she’ll be in grave danger if this information became public!”

“I am aware Mother,” he glanced at Hermione, “we’ve decided that aside from a few trusted friends we won’t even be telling anybody that I’m a veela.”

Narcissa seemed to think this over, “I suppose that’s wise, even if there's little that's generally known about veela, it's enough that she would still be a target. It's bad enough that you would empty your vaults to save your mate, if anybody knew she was the key to destroying our Houses, that killing her would be as effective as killing you…” she sighed.

“Don’t fret mother, Hermione and I are smart, and we were made to be a team, this is a blessing, not a curse,” he consoled.

Hermione’s heart melted at the tender way he spoke to his mother. She wasn't alarmed by this conversation, she hadn't even wasted much thought on the extra danger this added to her life, she’d been threatened since she was eleven years old, she was sadly just used to it by now.

“I am happy for you my dragon, I just worry,” Narcissa said, then visibly pulled herself together and attempted to perfect her already perfect posture, “Do the two of you have a plan for going public with your relationship? It will be news, surely you'll want to control the narrative.”

“Any interview we give will just be misconstrued, we’re more interesting as a tragedy than as a happy couple,” Draco scoffed, “better to let them think what they like rather than giving the media the opportunity to corner us.”

“You haven't told him about Rita?” Andromeda interrupted with a smirk, her eyes twinkling in a way that meant she was up to something.

Hermione shrugged, she couldn't explain it, she wasn't ashamed of her actions, yet she'd been too shy to tell Draco about her history and subsequent arrangement with the odious reporter.

“Rita Skeeter?” Draco asked incredulously.

Hermione sighed, and shot Andromeda an aggravated look, because she had to explain herself now, and she wasn’t certain she wanted to do it in front of this audience.

“Yes, Rita Skeeter. I assume you remember her rather creative reporting during the Triwizard Tournament?” she asked him pointedly.

He just shrugged unapologetically.

“Well, I realized there had to be some way that she was getting her information from inside of the castle, and not just from her little spies,” she cast a disparaging glance at Draco, ”because she had information that I knew had been discussed in private, I assumed she was doing some sort of surveillance. Eventually I realized that she was an animagus.

“You just figured that out?” he sounded disbelieving, but admiration was clear on his face.

She shrugged, “Well, it took all year, but yes, I realized I’d seen a beetle suspiciously hanging about. And I did have some experience with animagi.”

Draco snorted but nodded in understanding.

“I’ll admit it was difficult for me to concede that there was a reasonable explanation for you walking around talking to yourself all the time that year. I had thought you’d finally just lost your mind, that all that hair gel you used to wear had finally seeped into your brain and damaged it,” she cut her eyes to him and smirked.

“Haahaa,” he drawled, “so you figured out she was the beetle. What does that have to do with us going public?”

Andromeda laughed when Hermione hesitated, “if you don’t tell it, I will,” she said almost gleefully, she did enjoy stirring the pot.

Hermione let out an irritated breath, “There’s actually quite a bit more to the story. I ended up capturing her the night of the third task of the tournament, she was hanging about the hospital wing. I threatened to expose her as an unregistered animagus if she didn’t agree to stop writing for a year and to do me a favor in the future.”

“And then she gave her to a mass murderer to keep as a pet for the summer just so she would know she was serious,” Andromeda added in a sing-song, “haha Sirius/serious,” Andromeda laughed to herself.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the woman’s juvenile behavior.

“In my defense Sirius wasn’t actually a mass murderer,” she said dryly, “he was a capable enough wizard even if he was reckless. I trusted him to keep her from escaping and it was far less suspicious than if I kept a bug in a jar in my room at headquarters.”

Draco ignored their by-play.

“It’s been five years, Hermione, you think she’ll still honor that favor?” Draco asked dubiously, he was finished eating and was uncharacteristically fidgeting, doodling in the gravy left on his plate with his fork.

“Oh, I already cashed in on that favor, that’s how I got her to write that article exposing Voldemort for the Quibbler.”

She looked determinedly away from Draco’s parents as she said this- that article had, after all, exposed Lucius as a Death Eater- but she couldn’t avoid Draco’s eyes. To her relief there was not a hint of condemnation in them, in fact, he looked distinctly impressed.

“So what does she have to do with our situation?” he pressed, he was obviously anxious to get to the bottom of this.

“I caught her again, buzzing around Hogwarts after the final battle. I went and found Harry and we took her to and out-of-the-way room and had a little chat,” she let out a little snort of derision, “I was just so disgusted that she was trying to capitalize on that tragedy, it was so wrong, so macabre, but I knew there was no stopping her completely. I didn't have enough dirt on her to do that because, apparently, during the chaos of war she had registered as an animagus; she was more than happy to admit that to me when I forced her back into her human form. So, I settled for the next best thing and we made a deal. Which was that she wouldn't print anything about Harry, or me, or the Weasleys without clearing it with us first, and in return we would provide her with information about our lives as long as she reported on it honestly.”

Draco just stared at her, mouth slightly agape.

“And she agreed to that? Just like that?”

“Well, I also had a copy of her book on Dumbledore. I found it at Bathilda Bagshot’s house. Rita left her a note on the inside cover that strongly suggested that she used the Imperius curse on the woman to get her information. It's not enough to bring criminal charges, but it would be highly embarrassing for her if it got out, and it could end her career, especially if the accusation came from two members of the Golden Trio,” she shrugged nonchalantly, “I may also have reminded her that I was capable of finding her out and using it to my advantage at the age of fifteen, and that I was certainly capable of more now that I was three years older, and a war veteran. The fact that I had Harry Potter, who had just defeated the darkest wizard in living memory, at my side and that we both looked rather...fresh from battle, I think convinced her.”

She looked at Draco, and her eyes went wide as she took in his dilated pupils and rapid breathing, suddenly certain that, had they been alone, he would have been leaping across the table to pounce on her, or even transforming to fly her upstairs to the master bedroom. She sucked in a breath, and quickly looked away. He was a Slytherin, she should have known he'd find her behavior a turn on.

“Only you Granger, would have a reporter in your back pocket and just fail to mention it,” she looked back over at him, he'd shaken himself from his trance and was frowning thoughtfully, “You think she'll extend that agreement to me?”

She took reign of her own hormones and responded, “I think she'll get more out of continuing to work with us. Also, you and Harry are both politically powerful, you could make things very difficult for her if she doesn’t. And frankly it's been long enough, I think she knows which side her bread is buttered on; she's gotten so many scoops. To her credit she's never even slightly reneged on the deal. She didn't sneak into any of the funerals, she didn't sensationalize my break up with Ron, she waited to report on Harry and Ginny’s engagement until she got the go ahead; your mother is right, we should get on top of this and we should use Rita to do it.”

“I trust your judgement, love,” he said, and it meant a lot that he was willing to admit that in front of his parents.

“Actually, when she isn’t mired in gossip, she’s quite a good reporter. That book on Dumbledore was rather brilliant, no matter how dubious her sources, that man needed to be exposed,” she practically snarled.

There was yet another uncomfortable silence.

“I mean this with the greatest respect, Hermione, but that was quite Slytherin of you,” Narcissa commented suddenly.

Andromeda laughed, “Cissy, I swear if she had even one magical relative that hat would've put her in our house so fast it would've made your head spin.”

Narcissa’s cool blue eyes evaluated her, and Hermione willed herself not to look away, and though she had no idea what the other witch saw, eventually she nodded sharply in what felt like approval.

“Miss Granger, I must say, I'm surprised that you don't speak of Dumbledore with the kind of respect that most people do,” Lucius commented, “people like you, that is.”

The effect was instantaneous, Draco growled and leapt from his seat, looming over his father from across the table, his hands balled into fists, she knew that if she could see them his eyes would appear to be glowing. He was closer than ever to transforming.

Lucius’ eyes went wide and he actually recoiled. Hermione felt a grim sense of satisfaction as she watched his reaction. It had apparently finally sunk in that he was no longer dealing with the helpless child who had so idolized him, but a man who was not to be crossed.

“Draco,” she called softly, he glanced quickly in her direction, unwilling to turn away from the perceived threat.

Hermione just looked pointedly at Teddy. The little boy actually seemed totally unfazed, but Hermione still didn't want this situation to escalate. Then she turned purposefully to look at his father.

“I’m sorry Mr. Malfoy, I don't know what you mean, people like me?” she asked innocently.

She heard Draco huff when he understood that she wanted to handle this herself, and out of the corner of her eye saw him slowly retake his seat.

“Gryffindors,” he clarified, with a wary glance in his son’s direction.

She didn't believe him, but she didn't quibble, she just looked at him steadily and then began to speak: “Of all the tyrannies, a tyranny exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It may be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end, for they do so with the approval of their own conscience.”

Lucius cocked his head inquisitively.

“A famous muggle author named C.S. Lewis actually said that, but I could not articulate my feelings about Dumbledore any better than that.”

“You would compare Dumbledore to the Dark Lord?” he seemed sincerely interested, “in your opinion he was worse?”

“I think that Dumbledore put my life and the lives of just about everyone I've ever loved in danger over and over again, and he justified it as being part of the greater good, so we let him get away with it. And maybe most people would say that the ends did justify his means. But they weren't there in the thick of it, they didn't see the suffering he caused. He may have been a great wizard, but I can't agree that he was a good man.”

She took a shuddering breath.

“The love of my life and my best friend nearly murdered each other in a bathroom over lunch one day because they were both terrified and desperate children, and despite the fact that they were both students under his care at the time, Dumbledore did nothing to alleviate their suffering, because it didn't fit into his grand plan,” she sneered, “So, no Mr. Malfoy, you won't find me speaking of him with much respect,” she spat the word like it was something filthy, her breathing ragged after her rant.

She immediately wondered if she'd gone to far, if she shouldn't have brought up Draco’s plight.

Lucius’ face gave away nothing, he just studied her for a long time. The tension in the air was more uncomfortable than ever, but she held his gaze, refused to look away. Finally, with slow deliberation, he raised his goblet in her direction and dipped his head ever so slightly. She returned the gesture even as she wondered if this would the only time they'd come to such a mutual understanding.

She was still feeling taut as a bowstring and she was nearly startled out of her chair at the sudden clatter of cutlery against the stone floor. She whipped her head to the side to see Draco retrieving the source of the noise: Teddy’s dropped fork.

It happened too quickly for her to stop it. The little boy, with a strange mischievous look on his face that was actually very reminiscent of Draco, picked up his bowl of spaghetti and dumped it directly on top of the stooped blond head. Nobody did anything, the room seemed frozen in shock, which gave Teddy yet another opportunity. He picked up Draco’s wine glass and overturned it, topping off the discarded meal Draco was now wearing as a hat with the burgundy liquid.

That shook Draco out of his initial stupor and he jumped up, his face a picture of surprise, his hands raised towards his head but not touching the combined mess of noodles, marinara sauce, and wine that was starting to drip down his face.

Hermione bit her lip so hard she drew blood to keep from laughing. She didn't want Teddy to think she approved of his actions. She just calmly stood up and withdrew her wand.

“What are you doing?” Draco exclaimed in a panic.

He backed away from her, tripping over his own feet in his haste. That caused a chunk of tomato to fall first to his shoulder and then with a plop onto the floor.

“I’m just going to clean you up,” she said, eyeing the mess covering his usually perfectly coiffed head.

He gave an undignified shriek and covered his head protectively.

“Put that away, witch, you can’t use magic on my hair, you’ll destroy it!” his face contorted in horror.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“It’s just hair Draco, a scourgify won’t hurt it,” she said patiently, more like she was talking to Teddy-who was giggling delightedly at his triumph- than her boyfriend.

“That just shows what you know!” he retorted, “my hair is special!”

She bit back another laugh at his vanity.

“You aren’t Samson, your power isn’t stored in your hair, let me help you,” she cajoled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about woman, but I’m going to clean myself up properly,” he actually stomped his foot to accentuate his point and popped away.

Hermione just stood staring at the place where he'd disappeared for several long moments as it sunk in that Teddy had somehow perfectly manufactured a means of getting his way. He was just as devious as the rest of them. She was going to be surrounded by snakes for the rest of her life.

It was all too much for her, she burst into a fit of giggles.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Draco was standing in his bathroom at the Manor, halfway undressed, before he realized that he'd effectively just abandoned Hermione alone with his parents. Well, not alone, there was his aunt and the werewolf baby. But he doubted she would appreciate that distinction, she'd surely concentrate on the part where he'd just popped out of dinner without warning. No matter that it was her godson’s fault.

Sometimes having a mate was really difficult. He would have thought it would be easy, given that they were a perfect match. But she was Hermione. The woman was a force to be reckoned with and she would not be bribed, or bought, or distracted.

No, when he messed up she wanted him to genuinely apologize. She wanted him to be remorseful. She wanted him to change his behavior. Before his relationship with Hermione began he could have counted on his hands the number of times in his life he'd issued a genuine apology.

And even after he did all these things she usually made him suffer for awhile before she fully forgave him. For instance, the one time he'd accidentally called Teddy ‘werewolf baby’ out loud, she’d refused to let him touch her for hours. An entire afternoon he’d planned to spend snogging her had been lost to that slip of the tongue.

Oh well, the damage was already done. He'd just bathe and dress quickly and then pop back and throw himself at her mercy. He’d also have to keep an even sharper eye on the werewolf baby, because he had an evil streak.

Which is why Draco called him werewolf baby, not because of any lingering prejudice he still felt towards werewolves (people who lost their minds and turned into terrifying monsters once a month, what was there to be prejudiced about?) No, he called him that because, like werewolves, he had a hidden dark streak and his father happened to have been a werewolf. It was simply convenient.

Hermione didn’t agree, with the nickname or his reason for it, in her mind Teddy could do no wrong. Everything he did was adorable. But Draco knew the truth. Teddy considered Hermione to be his (that little outburst over dinner had been no surprise to him) and he was fully prepared to defend his territory. Draco had a long term plan to win him over (unlike Hermione, he was certain the kid could be bribed, he was part Black, after all), but until he could accomplish that he had to stay vigilant.

One moment of distraction at the shock of watching his father treat Hermione with respect, and he’d ended up wearing Teddy’s dinner and a very nice glass of wine. He’d been run out of his own house while the werewolf baby stayed behind with his mate. And he just knew he was going to be the one in trouble for it.

He finished showering, toweled off, and dressed in record time, carefully transferring the little box his jeweler had sent him earlier that week into an inner pocket in the new set of dress robes as he did so. He went back in the bathroom to fix his hair and shrieked when he caught a glance of himself in the mirror. His hair was pink.

Pink.

The sauce and the wine had dyed his hair pink. And it wasn’t even a consistent color. Sweet Salazar, he was spotted! He looked like he had a Pygmy Puff on his head!

He considered his options as he ran his fingers through his previously beautiful hair, examining it this way and that. Hopefully, a few more washings would return it to its former glory, but he didn’t know how long it would take, and he needed to get back to the glen. He could glamour it, but anybody sufficiently familiar with his magic, meaning Hermione and his parents for sure, would be able to tell he was wearing one and ask about it, which would defeat the purpose of wearing a glamour in the first place.

There was really nothing to be done. He closed his eyes and accepted his fate. What was one more humiliation?  
He'd left his cloak behind so he simply twisted on the spot, back to the glen. He appeared in the entrance hall of the castle and went in search of his family.

That thought brought him momentarily to a halt. Every remaining member of the Black family was here, in their ancestral home. He was their Head of House. Hermione had been the hostess for the night. The magnitude of those facts hadn't set in until now.

There would hopefully be many more nights like this one, minus the food hat, and with the addition of other children. Blond children. Or brunettes, he wasn’t picky, and that would make it more difficult for their evil cousin to turn it weird colors. It was a heady thought.

He shook himself out of his reverie, it wasn’t the time. But soon. He patted his robes to reassure himself that the jewelry box was still there.

He checked the formal living room off of the entrance hall first, it was a magnificent space. The twenty-five foot floor to ceiling windows offered an unparalleled view of the glen, and when they’d toured it earlier both his mother and aunt had just stood silently, staring out at the view in awe for many minutes. He thought they may have wanted to return there.

But the room was empty. And Draco’s heart skipped a beat. There was really only one other place Hermione would take them. The living room was arguably the most impressive room in the castle, but it was not her favorite. She'd taken his family- his parents- to her library, her sacred space.

Sure enough, they were there, sitting before a fire, his father and aunt sat on one sofa, bent over an enormous tome which was situated between them. His mother and mate were on another opposite them. His mother was holding Teddy on her lap, his hair was now the color Draco’s should have been.

His own mother was cuddling his attacker. Apparently, loyalty was dead.

He snorted, which got the attention of the room’s occupants.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Hermione greeted, hopping up off the sofa and coming over to him, the term of endearment was a sign in his favor, and she didn't appear to be angry either, “get all cleaned up?” she wondered, but she came to a startled halt before she could reach him and clapped a hand over her mouth, “oh, Draco, your hair!” she gasped.

“I don't want to talk about it,” he grumbled.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist and turned to face the sitting area.

“Edward,” she addressed the little boy sternly, “what do you have to say to Draco?”

Huh, maybe she was actually on his side in this one. There was a long pause. Andromeda cleared her throat pointedly, and werewolf baby stuck his lip out in a pout that was decidedly not cute.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

He didn't sound sorry, not even a little bit. He was actually stretched out in Draco’s mother's arms as she ran her fingers through his hair. He looked more like a cat sunning himself than a contrite toddler.

Life was fundamentally unfair.

He could never get away with refusing to forgive a two-year old, even an evil one who had given him pink hair. In fact, his mother already had her eyes narrowed in his direction in warning. Forget Hermione, if he didn't respond politely, he'd have to deal with his mother.

“You're forgiven,” he said, doing his level best not to sound petty.

His mother’s gaze sharpened, and he could have sworn he heard Hermione snickering slightly, but neither said anything. At least he seemed to have avoided Hermione's wrath for leaving.

Hermione pulled him over to sit with her. He was surprised when she situated herself between him and his mother.

“I'm certain your hair will wash out, dear,” Andromeda said, grinning wickedly at him.

“Now I know to avoid allowing mine to come into contact with marinara or red wine,” his mother chimed in, jostling Teddy playfully.

Draco was beginning to regret his role in reuniting the sisters.

And then he heard his father make a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort, but he didn’t so much as glance up from the book he and Andromeda were perusing. Hermione squeezed his hand in support, which would have meant more if he hadn’t been able to feel her shaking with silent laughter.

“Draco,” his mother said, “Hermione and I were just discussing the difficulties of decorating large spaces like the ones you have here. She's done such a beautiful job,” at least she'd been kind enough to change the subject.

“Well it isn't finished, Draco’s been a wonderful help.”

“We make a good team,” he gave her knee a squeeze.

His mother laughed lightly, “you must have gotten that from me, your father has never shown the slightest interest in interior design.”

“As if you'd trust my opinion,” his father responded, still not looking looking up from the book.

She just laughed again, “Hermione I meant to ask you earlier about what you're wearing, is that a muggle dress?”  
Draco held his breath and he felt Hermione go stiff.

“Yes ma’am. I just find I'm more comfortable this way, I never really got used to robes.”

“I only wondered because it's so lovely, perhaps we could go shopping sometime? I would need your help to navigate the muggle world,” she brightened, “Meda could come too, that would be fun!”

Andromeda chuckled, “oh sister, you don't know what you’re getting yourself into, the muggle fashion industry is vaster than you could possibly imagine.”

“Well that just sounds like more fun, and if the lovely outfit she's chosen for tonight is any indication, Hermione will be a fine guide.”

What in the world had happened between his mate and his mother while he'd been gone? She sounded practically ready to propose marriage for him, or maybe just skip that and adopt Hermione herself, she was never this complimentary of anyone.

Hermione blushed, “well thank you, but this is nothing special,” she tugged nervously at the hem of her dress.

His mother looked at her searchingly.

“People have been lauding her intelligence for years, and ignoring all of her other admirable qualities, she has a hard time accepting compliments,” Andromeda explained his mate’s behavior.

“Well, we’ll just have to remedy that,” his mother responded like it was the simplest thing in the world, ignoring the way Hermione was glaring at Andromeda.

His aunt, however, did not.

She shrugged, “As your surrogate mother I have certain duties which include making sure you don't sell yourself short, and embarrassing you in front of your boyfriend’s parents. Be grateful I don't have any baby pictures to cart out.”

Hermione, who had already been quite red was now beginning to resemble a tomato. Draco may have loved her, but he also thought it was her turn to take a ride on the humiliation train.

“Oh baby pictures,” his mother clapped her hands with excitement, “those I have plenty of. Would you like to see them sometime, Hermione?”

“I would,” she agreed immediately, and then she looked at him, “are you not going to object?” she wondered.

“Hermione, I was the most beautiful baby who has ever been born, I mean, are you surprised,” he gestured to himself, preening, “I have nothing to be embarrassed about, look your fill.”

She looked at him for a long moment and then turned back to his mother, “was he also born with his head this big?” she asked.

His mother had to cover her mouth with her hand to muffle her laughter, neither his father or aunt bothered. Yes, he was really coming to regret this little family reunion.

They chatted for a while after that, or at least the three women chatted, he watched them quietly and his father just continued to study that book until Teddy began to doze off. Then they decided to call it a night.

His father took Hermione’s hand and bowed over it rather graciously in farewell, “Miss Granger, if you wouldn't mind I would like to return one day and have another look at this rather wonderful library.”

“Of course, you are always welcome here.”

He knew his generous and genuine mate actually meant it, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

“If I'd known the Blacks were hoarding this kind of knowledge I might have insisted on a codicil in our marriage contract demanding that I be given access.”

A joke. His father had just made a joke, this night was a miracle wrapped in humiliation. That might actually be a trade off he would have been willing to make if it had been offered to him beforehand.

His mother snorted, “in order to be rid of a third daughter and the sister of a lunatic and a blood traitor, Uncle Arcturus may have agreed.”

“So happy to have made it easy for Lucius to acquire you,” his aunt Andromeda said with heavy sarcasm.

Draco held his breath and waited for the explosion, but both of his parents just seemed highly amused by the conversation. Lucius even dipped his head, for the unprecedented second time in an evening, in Andromeda’s direction.

They all said their final farewells and Andromeda and Teddy left through the floo while he escorted his parents home, as they needed him to get through the wards. He wondered if, after tonight, Hermione would ask him to establish a floo connection to Malfoy Manor.

When he returned he found Hermione standing at the window in the library, bathed in moonlight. He knew that she knew he was there, but she didn't turn around. He was glad, she looked beautiful as she was, ethereal.

He walked over to her quietly, not wanting to disturb the scene in any way, and wrapped his arms around her.

“Aside from your godson’s antics, tonight went well,” he murmured into her neck.

“It did,” she agreed, a pause, “your father doesn't like me, but he was surprisingly civil, especially after dinner.”

He laughed and clutched her more tightly, “my father doesn't like anybody except my mother, but you got something far more important, you got his respect. And you made my mother laugh, if she's happy he’s happy. He’ll let us be from now on, at least, and that's really something.”

She sighed and leaned back into his embrace.

“Your mother is lovely, I enjoyed talking to her.”

“Did something happen while I was gone? She was uncharacteristically open with you.”

“She enjoyed watching you be so comfortable in your own skin and in your surroundings. When Teddy, well, when he did what he did, I think it reminded her of when you were a little boy, the way you reacted so naturally.”

“My mother enjoyed hearing me scream like a girl?”

When had she become such a traitor? Hermione just laughed lightly.

“She liked seeing that you could let your guard down. I gathered that it's been a very long time since she's witnessed that,” she explained, her voice soft.

It would have been a long time since his mother had seen him like that, prior to the return of the Dark Lord even. Guilt settled in his chest. His mother had done the best she could for him, had risked everything for him, and he'd rewarded her by closing himself off. He would have to be better, he wanted to see her as happy as she'd been tonight.

“She thanked me for making you so happy,” she continued, “I think between that and Teddy, especially after he decided to turn his hair Malfoy blond, she saw the possibility for a future here,” she shrugged, “or maybe I'm projecting on her because that's certainly what I saw.”

And, just like that, all of his annoyance with the miniature cretin disappeared. He'd had a million quips on the tip of his tongue and they all dissolved at that confession. She spun around in his arms and reached up to loop her arms around his neck.

“I’ve always felt like I belonged here, from that first day you showed it to me. But tonight, having your family here,” she gazed up at him shyly, “our family,” she corrected, “I realized that this is my home now. I want to make it official.”

Draco took a deep breath that did absolutely nothing to calm his suddenly racing heart.

“What are you saying?”

She bit her lip.

“I'm saying, I want you to take me upstairs and make love to me. I want to wake up with you here tomorrow, and every morning after that,” she smiled at his, her expression full of hope.

There was a long pause as he tried to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

“Unless you don't think we’re ready?” she asked in a small voice, her eyes suddenly unsure.

He scrambled to pull the jewelry box out of his pocket before he could muck this up any further, while thanking every deity he'd ever heard of that he'd decided to carry it with him everywhere so he wouldn't be unprepared for a moment like this one with his unpredictable mate.

He popped open the box to show her the ring with one hand, and picked up her left hand with the other. He brought it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles reverently.

“I want that too. I want everything. I love you, you know that, and I promise to spend every day of the rest of my life cherishing you. Hermione, will you marry me?”

She stood there blinking at him for so long he almost started to squirm.

“You're supposed to get down on one knee.”

“What?”

“This is a muggle tradition, proposing like this, with a ring. I'm the expert on muggles here and I'm telling you, to do it correctly you should be down on one knee.”

“Are you kidding me?” he asked incredulously.

She took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest, “I'm not saying ‘yes’ until you get down on one knee,” she said stubbornly.

“You just said you would say ‘yes,’” he argued.

“But I'm not actually saying yes until you do it properly,” she set her jaw and looked at the floor pointedly.

She was the most damnably frustrating woman he'd ever met, why did he adore that about her?

“I'm waiting,” she singsonged, tapping her foot impatiently.

He sighed loudly and obliged. Of course, given his luck tonight, they were standing in a part of the room where there was no rug, and so he ended up kneeling on the hard, stone floor.

“Well?” she prompted.

“Well?” he parroted, gesturing to his position.

“I told you to do it properly. Aren't you going to ask me?” she said sweetly, a wicked smirk on her face.

“I’m not actually sure I want to anymore,” he quipped.

Her smirk melted into a beaming smile, her suspiciously shiny eyes radiated happiness, and he was lost.

His eyes fell shut, “Please say you’ll marry me,” he whispered.

And then she was in his arms, kneeling before him, her hands cupping his jaw planting kisses all over his face, punctuating each one with a cry of ‘yes!’

He pulled her to him and kissed her so passionately that Draco thought if there had been a rug, he would have gone ahead and consummated this relationship right there.

Eventually they pulled themselves together, up off of the floor, and then he finally managed to get the ring on her finger. She stuck her hand out, wiggling it this way and that, admiring the new adornment. The ice-blue stones shone in the moonlight and she grinned at him in obvious approval.

“Was that really necessary?” he asked as he gently brushed the tears from her eyes with the pads on his thumbs, ignoring his own tear-streaked face.

She laughed tearily, “I love you sweetheart, more than I ever could have imagined loving anybody. I can't wait to live my life with you. But you are still Draco Malfoy, and I am still Hermione Granger, and I absolutely could not forgo the opportunity to have you before me on bended knee. It's a good thing you're rich, because I'm going to need to invest in a pensieve so I can show everybody that memory.”

Draco couldn't help but laugh even as he began formulating a plan to keep her from finding one of the rare devices. He knew marriage wasn't always easy, but at least their’s would never be boring.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

She woke up slowly, the feeling that something was wrong niggling at the edge of her consciousness but she resisted opening her eyes, stretched her deliciously tender muscles and luxuriated in her memories. That’s when she realized what the problem was, she was alone in bed. Draco was standing across the room at the window instead of lying next to her, where he belonged. She was certain that was why she'd awoken so early, if the dim light was any indication, after what had been a very late night.

If he knew that she was awake he didn't give any indication, but she had a sneaking suspicion that he could sense that she was. In fact, she had a sneaking suspicion that there was very little he wouldn't be able to sense about her from now on. What had happened between them the night before was not only incandescently beautiful, but had bonded them on a level that was beyond explanation, he was part of her now, and she him. They would never truly be separated again.

He was wearing only a pair of black pajama bottoms that he must have transfigured, because neither of them had any extra clothes in the castle. She wondered absently why he'd bothered, she knew every inch of him now. She winced at the sight of the angry, red scratch marks that crossed his shoulders and back, but couldn't regret putting them there, especially as she remembered the look on his face as she grasped at him in the throes of passion. Nothing could make her want to take that back.

However, she could see his face reflected in the window. He was frowning, the expression was incompatible with the bliss she felt and that was simply not to be borne. So, she dragged herself out of bed, pulling the top sheet along with her and wrapping it around herself. She made her way over to him, very careful to keep from tripping over the oversized sheet which trailed behind her like a train.

She placed one hand softly on his shoulder when she reached him, “would you like me to heal these?”

He turned, his mouth forming a slow, lazy smirk as he drunk in her form hungrily.

“No, I like feeling them,” he shrugged his shoulders demonstratively, “remembering how completely wild you went for me,” he eyed her appearance, “nice hair.”

She didn't need a mirror to know her curls were a disaster and actually licked her lips as her own memories washed over her, “somebody likes to run his hands through it,” she teased with an irrepressible grin.

His eyes went dark with desire and he reached out to tunnel his fingers into her hair and cup her head possessively with one hand, the other he wrapped around her waist and pulled her against his chest.

“That's right, I did that,” his voice was a low growl in her ear, “and that, and that,” he continued as he trailed his lips over the various lovebites that marked her neck and chest, “and especially this,” he scraped his teeth against the place where he'd sealed their bond with his bite and she moaned.

She hadn't looked in the mirror, but she was certain that no visible mark remained, just as she was certain that they would both, unerringly, always be able to find the spot anyway. Veela magic was subtle but, as she as learning, incredibly powerful. She sighed as he began to kiss her more purposefully.

“Draco-” she wrenched herself away from his lips with difficulty, she certainly didn't want to, but he’d looked so troubled before and she needed to make sure he was okay before they, once again, got carried away, “why are you awake and out of bed?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, her lips automatically curled into a small smile. Her hair may have been a mess, but his was still pink and she made a silent promise to help him wash it out later. He'd been a pretty good sport about the whole thing. He could have pouted about it for the rest of the night, but he hadn't, so he deserved a reward, and a bath with him sounded pretty wonderful anyway.

“I suppose I'm feeling overwhelmed and I was actually trying not to wake you,” he admitted.

“Getting out of bed wasn't the way to do that, I could tell you were gone,” she rubbed her cheek against his chest affectionately, softening the reprimand.

“I'm sorry,” he began running his fingers through her curls again, she leaned into his touch.

“Why are you overwhelmed?”

He sighed again and held out his left arm so that she could see the flesh once marred by a Dark Mark. As they had suspected it would, the final step of their bonding had driven the last of the dark magic out.

“I didn't expect this, to ever be this happy,” he began, his breath hitching, “Even after I found you I expected you to reject me. Part of me is still waiting for it,” he heaved a mighty sigh and met her eyes, “I know I certainly don't deserve you or the second chance I've been given here, and I'm afraid I might wake up one day to find it has all just been a dream.”

It hit her suddenly, beyond anything she could have braced for, like a physical blow and she clung to him to keep from being bowled over by it; his self-loathing was causing her physical pain. She screwed her eyes shut and concentrated on how she could make this better for him.

“I stole some candy once, when I was about six. I felt so guilty I confessed almost immediately and I told my parents I understood if they didn't love me anymore. And my mother said something that I'll never forget, she said that nobody can earn love, but everybody deserves it.”

“I don't understand.”

She looked up and met his eyes, which were stormy with something that looked an awful lot like despair, “Love is freely given, it's a gift, not a reward for good behavior,” she grasped his biceps, a physical plea for him to understand, to believe.

He huffed softly, “okay, but I didn't just steal some candy, Hermione. The Mark might be gone, but it doesn't take away the fact that I was a Death Eater. At one time I really believed in the cause and the rest of our world won't forget that either. Don't you think that you deserve somebody like Potter, or hell, even Weasley,” he scoffed, “who you don't have to make excuses for? Who you can be proud to have standing by your side?”

It felt like another punch to the gut. She narrowed her eyes dangerously and took a step back, balling her hands into fists as she tried to quell the almost overwhelming urge to slap him, “you don't think I'm proud of you?” she asked, voice deathly calm.

His eyes went wide in surprise and he reached for her but then seemed to think better of it. She took several long breaths through her nose as she tried to calm down. She reminded herself that this was about his insecurities and being angry that he could think such a preposterous thing wasn't helping.

“Draco,” she stepped back into the circle of his arms, and placed a hand over his heart, she'd grown to love its usual steady beat but it was now racing and she realized he was far more upset than he appeared, “sweetheart,” she said with great emphasis, wanting him to understand how very much she meant by the endearment; he could be a sarcastic, arrogant, self-centered bastard but there was so much more to him than that, over the past weeks she'd come to recognize a goodness in him, a yearning to do what was right that was especially extraordinary in one who had been cast into darkness for so long, “I know we have this magical connection that draws us together, I’m certain it accounts for the speed with which our relationship has progressed, but my being here is still my choice, and I wouldn't be if I didn't respect and admire you greatly.”

He looked at her doubtfully and she had to stop herself from stomping her feet in frustration.

“I'm sorry I've obviously failed to properly communicate how I feel about you,” she held up a hand to keep him from interrupting, “no, let me say this, it was foolish of me to think it went without saying. I love you Draco, more than I've ever loved anyone, but I am not now, nor have I ever been one of those women to wax poetic about how love conquers all, because I don't believe that it does. If I didn't believe you were a good man, if I didn't think you would be a supportive partner and a loving father I wouldn't be here. I certainly wouldn't have committed myself to you the way I did last night. I was watching you, long before you came to me last month. I saw the way you were clawing your way out of that pit of bigotry and hate you were raised in. Why do you think I started to befriend you, let you talk to me in very public settings? I'm neither so forgiving nor so sympathetic that I would have done that if you were the same boy I'd known at Hogwarts. I certainly wasn't trying to change you, I saw that you already had changed and somebody capable of that was somebody I wanted to get to know. Ron is a good man, but he was raised to a certain set of ideals and he's stuck with them, what you've done is so much more difficult, it's extraordinary and I am so proud of you,” she looked at him, eyes beseeching his understanding.

“I think you're giving me more credit than I deserve,” he said, but his expression had relaxed and she knew she was getting through to him.

She smirked, it was always better when she could talk to him in a teasing manner, it kept him out of his head, “let me tell you a secret,” she said, giving him an impish smile.

He tilted his head inquisitively, “Alright,” he ducked his head and nipped her earlobe.

She squeaked and narrowed her eyes playfully, “well, you see, I'm Hermione Granger, people tell me things, whether I want them to or not, always trying to impress the war heroine,” she said mockingly, rolling her eyes.

“Oh?” he looked both confused and amused.

“And it seems a certain ex-classmate of mine has become very charitable,” she said, giving him a pointed look. He went still, but she persisted, she'd been looking for an opportunity to bring this up, “the curious thing is that while he donates plenty in his own name and the name of his family, most of it seems to be anonymous. People tend to think of him as a selfish prat, nobody understands what he's doing.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Hermione, my family was deeply involved in a cause that almost destroyed our world as we know it. And then it was like the Ministry didn't even realize that by freezing Malfoy Enterprises’ assets after the war that they were putting hundreds of people out of work. They weren't just punishing my family, they punished our employees for more than a year. Donating that money to help people, and the economy, recover was the least I could do, and I didn't deserve credit. I certainly didn't intend for people to gossip about it.”

“If it makes you feel better it was just bits and pieces of information here and there, I don't think anybody else would have put it all together and I respect the fact that you wanted to remain anonymous, so I certainly didn't say anything. I'm just saying that I know how generous you've been. I know the kind of man that you are.”

She tilted his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes.

“Tell me you at least believe me, even if you don't agree.”

He just looked at her for several long moments and then gave her a sharp nod, he placed his forehead against hers, “I love you,” he whispered.

She rose up on her toes and caught his lips with hers, “ummm, so much,” she agreed

They just held each other for several minutes.

“Actually that brings me to something I’ve been hoping to discuss with you,” she broke the silence.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” he was obviously eager to change the subject.

She bit her lip and looked up at him shyly, she suddenly felt like a child asking her parents for a particularly expensive but much longed for birthday present.

“I was hoping to get involved with your charitable giving, you know, once we’re married. Maybe we could talk about funneling some funds to some lesser known organizations? I mean I know it’s not my money, but I thought you might be willing to take some advice.”

He frowned at her uncomprehendingly, “not your money?”

“Well no, it’s yours, or your family’s. I didn’t do anything to earn it,” she clarified.

He snorted, “I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry.”

She reared back in surprise at that strange response, “Why?”

“You're just so absurd Hermione. I mean, what are we if not family? What will we be creating together?” he put a hand on her abdomen over the place where, one day, their children would grow.

She felt her face heat up, she hadn't meant to undermine his importance in her life, but she didn't want him to think she was taking advantage of him either.

“No, of course I didn’t mean it like that. I just wouldn’t want you to think I expected free reign of your finances, I'm not with you for your money.”

This time he actually did laugh, actually threw back his head and guffawed, “I know that Hermione, you may be the least materialistic person I've ever met. But what’s mine is yours and I trust you completely. Vast amounts of money is one thing I can actually bring to this relationship. If you want to give it away, give it away. If you want to quit your job and do charity work full time. Hell, start your own, we don’t need you to make money. I know how important it is to you to do good, I know how many goals you have, make it your full time job,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

She stared at him, this conversation had certainly taken an unexpected turn, “how long have you been thinking about this?”

He shrugged again, “I haven't, you asked, that was my answer.”

She took a deep breath, eyes raking over his defined torso and suddenly she was the one who was overwhelmed. Here he stood, almost impossibly beautiful in this wonderful home he’d provided for her, laying all her dreams at her feet like it was no big deal.

“You have literally never been sexier to me,” she blurted.

His eyebrows rose and he smirked, “Never?” he teased.

She looked into his eyes and just knew the same memories of the night before that had started flashing through her mind were also going through his, and she wrapped her arms around him and stuck her hands under the waistband of his pajama pants, “almost never,” she clarified.

She scratched lightly at the tops of his buttocks, a burning need for him beginning to build. It had been like this the night before too. It hit her suddenly and had taken all of her considerable self control to let him go escort his parents home, and she had nearly pounced on him the moment he’d returned.

And, oh god, how she'd wanted him. How she still wanted him.

The desire had been no surprise, she'd been attracted to him for months, if not years. It was the desperation that had shocked her. The absolute clawing need to give herself to him, and to take what he had to offer in return.

She was not exactly a stranger to desire and yet, if she was being totally honest, she had always thought that people exaggerated when they discussed sex. Receiving pleasure, giving it, was something she'd lived quite happily without for more than twenty years. She expected it to be enjoyable, to like sharing such intimacies with the man she loved, but she never could have anticipated what she actually found in Draco’s arms.

It was a revelation.

They came together many times over the course of the night. She now truly understood why it was described as “making love.” Truthfully, she'd always thought that was just a romanticized explanation for a biological need.

But, oh, the desperation to be one with him, and the heart wrenching satisfaction when, at last, they were. He'd kissed away the tears that had begun streaming down her cheeks the moment they were joined, and she could tell from the look in his eyes that he'd understood completely. She had barely been able to choke out the words to ask, beg him, to bite her and complete their mating.

“Are you sore, love?” he asked huskily, again nibbling at the place where he'd done so.

“I feel so good,” she murmured against his neck, her body felt deliciously spent, like it had finally achieved its ultimate purpose, but also like it was a new muscle she wanted to test, “I want you again,” she confessed.

He growled and picked her up, her legs automatically went around his waist, her arms around his neck. He took one step towards the bed and stumbled, she looked around in surprise and laughed when she realized he'd gotten tripped up in the sheet that was still wrapped around her and was pooled on the floor at their feet.

“You think that's funny witch?” he narrowed his eyes at her, “why are you even wearing this,” he asked as he tried to rip it off but was impeded by their position.

She laughed harder at his frustrated expression, “you were the one who started putting clothes on,” she pointed out.

He looked up from his task and blushed, “it felt unseemly to just wander around naked, my mother would be appalled.”

“Well I won’t tell if you won’t,” she teased, jumping out of his arms and allowing the sheet to drop to the floor, she turned around, gave him a sultry look over her shoulder and sprinted towards the bed.

He caught her before she could reach it and tossed her onto the plush mattress. She looked up to see him looming over her in all his naked glory. He had transformed, his wings outstretched, his figure backlit by the soft morning light streaming into the room through the windows behind him. Her breath hitched at his beauty and she crooked a finger in his direction.

And just like that he was on her, she was completely covered by his larger frame. But it wasn't nearly enough. She met his eyes and arched up against him, relishing in the feel of his skin against hers. He took her hands in his, intertwined their fingers and raised them above her head.

“You are so gorgeous like this,” he said, voice rough with desire that further inflamed her own.

“God, Draco, did you know it was going to be like this?” she panted.

He leaned down and kissed her deeply, “oh love, I could never have imagined.”

She squeezed his hands and raised her head to join their lips again, “love me now please.”

And he did, very thoroughly.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

He awoke to the sight of his mate sprawled across his chest and already awake herself. Her left arm was extended in front of her, admiring her new ring again. He studied her studying it and contemplated the events of the last twelve or so hours.

Becoming physically one with her and finally sealing their bond had settled something in him. He’d been like two different people fighting over the same body: the wizard and the veela; he’d become comfortable with the practicalities of his new abilities but had not truly embraced being a veela. Through their connection he’d made peace with his new identity. He was more than just a wizard with some special abilities. She settled him heart, soul, mind, and magic.

And in being completely himself, open and vulnerable to her, he was able to share the most honest and earth shattering experience with her. Truly, his world would never again be the same. He watched her tilt her hand back and forth like she had the night before, the difference was that whereas the blue diamonds had looked almost haunting in the moonlight, in the bright morning sun they shone radiantly: perfect for her

“Hello Wife, I take it you approve?”

Her head shot up to look at him, she bit her lip, “aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?” she wondered.

“How so?” he frowned in confusion and ran a hand down her naked back.

She shuddered, and then made a little shrugging motion. “Well, I'm not your wife yet,” she looked up and gave him a coy smile that he couldn't help but think was intentionally enticing.

He studied her carefully and hoped that what he was about to say wouldn't scare her. “Love, while I'm certain that Mother is going to insist on holding some kind of public ceremony, no bonding the Ministry can perform for us could possibly be more serious than the one we completed last night. For all intents and purposes we’re married now, I thought you understood that.”

He heard her inhaled sharply. Her magic had accepted him, of that he was certain; the bonding wouldn't have been successful otherwise, but his mate did tend to overthink things. He hoped her brain wasn't about to ruin their peaceful morning.

“Married,” she echoed.

“Yes,” he responded hesitantly.

She looked up at him and giggled, “don't look so worried, Draco, I'm not upset. I don't think anything could upset me right now,” she grinned, “I just hadn't thought about it in quite that way.” There was a pause. “I have a husband,” she singsonged.

Draco felt like his chest might burst open from the sheer joy of those words.

“That's why you asked me to marry you last night, isn't it?” she looked at him eagerly.

“Yes, I knew how thoroughly the bonding would tie us together, and you deserved a proposal before we took that step. I didn't want you to be deprived of anything just because I'm a veela.”

“Thank you for that, and for this,” she fiddled with her ring, spinning it around on her finger with her thumb, “I know it's not traditional in magical society.”

“I wouldn't expect you to leave all your traditions behind, and you spend significant time in the muggle world, people will expect you to have a ring. I didn't get it totally right though, I didn't know about getting down on one knee,” he glared at her playfully

“You followed directions fairly well,” her mouth curled into an evil little smirk and she suddenly pinched his side and he jumped, nearly dumping her off of him.

She squealed and tried to roll away from him but he held her tight.

“Did you want a muggle ceremony?” he asked, when she finally settled against him again, “In a church, that's where muggles marry, isn't it? Do you think maybe your parents would want that?”

He watched her chew on her lip, obviously contemplating that, and she slowly began to shake her head.

“I'm a witch, I'll get married like a witch. But, um, there's something in my flat I'd like to go get.”  
He frowned but shrugged, “okay, right now?”

She nodded but held a hand out to stop him when he started to get up, “no, please don't move, stay right there, I'll only be a minute.”

“Okay,” he answered drawing out the word to demonstrate his confusion.

She darted out of the bed and scurried over to collect the sheet she'd discarded earlier, wrapping it around herself. His eyes followed her every movement. She turned back to see him staring at her and flushed all the way down to the swell of her breasts.

“Nothing I haven't seen before, lovely,” he chuckled. She made a face and marched back over to the bed and ripped the duvet off of him, he made no attempt to cover himself. “Like what you see?” he taunted.

She licked her lips, “I'm one lucky witch,” she said with a wink and then she popped away.

As promised, she really was only gone for about a minute. She re-appeared in the same spot at the foot of the bed clutching the sheet with one hand and holding a small velvet pouch in the other. She began pulling at the sheet, tucking it so that it would stay up on its own, much to his chagrin, and then climbed up onto the mattress. He sat up and she crawled to him and folded herself against his side. She pulled open the drawstring of the bag and poured its contents- two silver rings- into her hand.

“These are my grandparents wedding bands, my mum’s parents, I've told you about them,” she began.

Draco nodded. Hermione had been very close with her grandmother, he knew less about her grandfather who had passed away when she was very young, but he knew they were both very important influences in her life.

“They had a really incredible love story. They met when my grandfather was serving in France during World War Two.”

Draco hated to interrupt, but he couldn't just let that pass without comment. “Did you just say World War Two? As in, the muggles had a war that involved the entire world? Two of them,” he asked incredulously; the mind boggled.

She smiled sadly at him. “We’re not the only ones capable of great violence. In fact, since they don't have magic muggles have to invent, and they’ve gotten very good at creating tools of war. They have weapons that are more dangerous than you can possibly imagine. I'll explain it all sometime, but not now, please. It's tremendously complicated and very sad, that's not how I want to remember this moment.”

“Of course,” he gave her shoulders a squeeze and pressed his lips to her temple. Everyday with Hermione was a revelation, it actually frightened him when he considered that, without her, he probably would have continued to live in terrible ignorance for the rest of his life.

“Anyway, they hardly had any time together after they met, but he promised he would come back for her and after the war was over, and he did. And then she packed up her whole life and came back to England with him. They were inseparable after that, even though at first she barely spoke any English and his French was… not good,” she giggled and he admired the way her face lit up as she became immersed in her story, “but they just had this special connection. I could tell, even as a child. I always wanted to be like them. Mémé knew that, and she passed down their rings so that I could use them with my husband. It was her way of saying she believed that I would find the right one someday, I think.”

She leaned in and placed a kiss over his heart.

“I was wondering if you'd be willing to wear this?” she asked, holding the larger ring out, dangling from one dainty finger.

“This is how muggles marry, isn't it?”

She nodded. “Yes, since they don't have magic to bind themselves together, they make vows to each other and seal them with a ring. It's only a symbol but-”

“But it's important to you,” he surmised.

She shrugged.

“Don't downplay it, Hermione,” he said seriously.

“It didn't occur to me until a few minutes ago,” she said quietly, “But your offer about having a muggle ceremony and being so thoughtful as to get me an engagement ring; I guess it helped me realize that our situation is unique and that’s okay. I know that a lot of people won't understand you wearing a wedding ring like a muggle, but I'd very much like it if you would.”

“I would be honored,” he nodded towards the ring, unsure of the procedure; it seemed wrong to just put it on.

Her face reflected such joy, he would have agreed to just about anything to keep that expression on her face.

“Um, okay,” she looked around in consideration, “just turn so that you're looking at me, please.”

He followed her directions and she scooted around as well until they were sitting parallel to the headboard, and almost nose to nose, her legs draped over his. She snagged his left hand and tugged gently on his fingers until they were splayed out between them. She met his eyes and he felt her slip the ring onto his fourth finger, but he didn't dare blink, much less look away to see. His magic tingled and he just knew that this moment was sacred.

Her voice was low and mesmerizing, “with this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow,” she took a deep breath, “I love you Draco, and you have my solemn vow that I will cherish you, and our family, above all else for the rest of my life.” She looked down at his hand and chuckled under her breath, “of course it fits perfectly, we really were fated.”

He watched, fascinated, as she removed her engagement ring and placed it on her right hand, and then handed him the second band. There was something about her first words, something that touched his magic; perhaps for muggles they were just words, but between the two of them an oath had been invoked. His mate was a marvel.

He slipped the band onto her hand, “with this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow,” he vowed, and his magic hummed in agreement, “I love you, Hermione, and the day that you gave me a chance was the real beginning of my life as I endeavour to live it, and you have my solemn vow that I will spend it treasuring you and our family.”

She slipped her engagement ring off of her right hand and handed it to him and he slid it in place on top of her new wedding band. She surged forward and kissed him.

“Did you feel that?” she murmured against his lips.

He laughed, caught her bottom lip between his teeth, nipped it gently, and then soothed the spot with his tongue before he answered, “our magic sealing an oath?” he questioned.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly, “it was so beautiful.”

“Yes, I think any sort of bonding ritual Mother could arrange now will be thoroughly redundant,” he shook his head at the thought, “I'll try to talk her down.”

“Don’t,” she said quite suddenly.

He frowned, “but I know how much you hate your fame. There's no reason to put you on display when we're so clearly already married.”

“But nobody else knows that, these rings may mean a great deal to us, but they're nothing to the rest of society. Nothing has changed from a few minutes ago. If we don't have a public bonding it will be very suspicious.”

“We’ll tell them we ran off and got married or something,” he shrugged, unperturbed.

“They'll be tripping all over themselves to cast aspersions on that story. They'll assume that we have something to hide, probably that your parents refuse to accept me. It will only do more damage to their reputation.”

“It's not your duty to worry about their reputation,” he said seriously; he was already asking her to bear the mantle of his family name, that was enough of a burden.

“Isn't it? Our past is one thing, an ugly thing, but it is the past. They are my in-laws now, not just my husband's parents but they will also be my children's grandparents. We already seem to be finding our way into an amicable relationship, I won't sabotage that.”

“You don't owe them anything,” he maintained.

She smiled at him and took his hand, toying with his new ring. “Well there's you, I think I owe them quite a lot for that. But besides that, I'm not opposed to a big wedding.”

“You're not?” He stared at her, dumbfounded.

“Well, no. I mean I know I'm not necessarily a typical girl, but that doesn't mean I was immune to dreaming about my wedding from time to time. And my fairy tale is literally within reach, even a novice like me in magical society knows how legendary Malfoy events are, especially with your mother at the helm. Why not celebrate our love in public?”

He was loath to argue with her. Making her and his mother happy with a mere word of acquiescence was the equivalent of catching the snitch in the first minute of every match he'd ever play. But he had to ensure that she knew what she was getting herself into.

“She'll want to make a statement, Hermione. She’ll push for big and extravagant, and you hate your fame,” he reminded her again.

“I hate being reminded about the stupid war, of course I do, anybody with a brain does. But being the center of attention because I'm marrying the man I love and the people surrounding me are there for a celebration, that seems rather wonderful. Plus, I have a feeling that your mother and Andromeda could help me find the most amazing gown,” she sighed dreamily, he felt his eyes go wide in surprise.

“But a lot of people will be there just for what they consider to be the spectacle,” he argued, he was absolutely not going to let her go into this unless her eyes were wide open.

“You mean like Pansy Parkinson who’s been trying to get her claws into you and your vaults practically since we entered Hogwarts?” there was a teasing lilt to her voice, but her eyes were hard.

“Yes,” he said, swallowing nervously.

Her expression turned mischievous, “I think I’d quite like to see them all come and eat their hearts out.”

He just stared at her for several long moments, almost unable to believe how thoroughly sexy her sudden self-confidence was. And then he pounced.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Hermione was nervously pacing her bedroom trying to decide if she wanted to shake her husband- who was clinging to her like a limpet- off or sink into his embrace, when the doorbell rang.

They had eventually pulled themselves out of bed and returned to Hermione’s apartment so that she could get ready for her birthday dinner with her friends. Neither of them had been particularly happy about it. And whoever was at the door was early, which was annoying. She could sense that Draco felt the same way, though he really should have been gone by now; he was going to dine with his parents and tell them their news.

“Should I leave?” he murmured, even as he held her closer, obviously reluctant to part from her, which was why he was still here- she wasn’t any better, she could already tell it was going to be a long night without him.

“No,” she said firmly, “we’re done hiding, aren’t we?”

She felt him nod against her shoulder and she made her way to the front door. He took a step back and gave her room to check the peep-hole and open the door.

“It’s Neville,” she whispered, “and he’s alone.” Hermione thought that was odd because he would normally arrive with Hannah, and probably Susan too. She opened the door and smiled at him in welcome, “Hi, Neville! Thank you for coming!”

“Happy birthday Hermione!” he immediately swept her into his arms. When he stepped back she saw his eyes flick to a place over her shoulder where she assumed he could see Draco standing, he didn’t seem to be surprised, “Malfoy,” he greeted, with little hesitation.

She stepped back to stand at Draco’s side and he wrapped one arm around her waist.

“Longbottom,” he said in return, and stuck his hand out.

Hermione held her breath but Neville didn’t make her wait, he immediately took the proffered hand, and shook it.

“You don’t seem surprised to see Draco here,” she began. There was no point in evading the issue.

Neville smiled softly. “That’s because I’m not.”

She felt her eyes go wide in surprise.

“Perhaps we should have a seat,” Draco suggested, leading her into the living room with a hand at the small of her back.

When they were settled Neville cleared his throat, he was starting to look uncomfortable. “Hannah encouraged me to come, I didn’t want to intrude, but she was adamant that we should talk before everyone arrived tonight.”

“Okay,” Hermione said hesitantly but motioned for him to continue.

He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat again, it was so reminiscent of the boy who had been terrified of their potions professor that she almost wanted to go and give him a reassuring hug. But she knew what he was truly capable of; he didn’t need her to do that.

“You know how I help out in Magical Blossoms in my free time?” he said, addressing Hermione.

She nodded; Magical Blossoms was the premier florist in Diagon Alley. While Neville currently worked as an Auror and was determined to remain in that position until they rounded up the last of the Death Eaters on the Ministry’s ‘Most Wanted’ list, his true passion was herbology, and he wanted to obtain a mastery in the subject. Working in a florist shop kept him in touch and up to date with foreign flora he couldn’t grow in his own gardens, and she knew that Neville’s tender heart went out to the elderly widower who ran the shop. His eyes shifted to look at Draco.

“I promise I don’t make it a habit of invading customers’ privacy, but you’re a well known wizard, I couldn’t help but notice when you came in and started ordering ornate arrangements, I also couldn’t help but notice when those same arrangements appeared in my friend’s office at work.”

Hermione gasped as she realized just how long Neville had probably been aware that she had been seeing Draco. “You didn’t say anything.” It was half question half comment.

He shrugged. “It wasn’t my place, I knew you’d tell me in your own time. I mean, I could understand that there were a lot of reasons you’d want to keep this quiet while you figured it out.” He gestured between the two of them to explain this thoughts.

Hermione felt her posture relax. He seemed to understand completely. He seemed supportive. Draco reached out and grasped her hand and the look on Neville’s face in response to the gesture was something very close to approval.

“Thank you,” she said rather breathlessly, still not quite believing this fortuitous turn of events.

Neville nodded. “Anyway, I got the impression that you were going to tell everybody tonight and Hannah said that I should come over here and make sure you knew that you had our support. And Susan’s too, um,” he looked away bashfully, “she told Susan,” he admitted.

Hermione laughed lightly. She was neither surprised nor offended; she knew how female friendships worked. Hannah wouldn’t have been able to resist sharing such a juicy piece of gossip with her best friend, and they were both trustworthy. “She got it right, Neville, and don’t worry I’m not upset that Susan knows too. I do really appreciate this.”

He held her gaze, “do I need to threaten Malfoy?”

She felt Draco twitch in annoyance. “I’m a veela, she is my mate, I would never hurt her,” he said suddenly.

She heard Neville’s breath catch and her head swiveled to look at Draco in surprise.

“What?” he asked, “we agreed to tell the people you trust the truth, Longbottom has demonstrated that he can be trusted.”

Neville pulled out his wand. “Place me under an oath. I don’t want to put either of you in danger by accidentally revealing that. And you should ask anybody else to take an oath too, these people might be your friends, Hermione, but there’s no love lost between them and Malfoy. There is no dishonour in asking magic to seal the trust you’ve placed in them by sharing that.”

She could feel Draco looking at her, he’d been urging her to do the same thing. “This is a thing I don’t get because I’m muggleborn, isn’t it?” she huffed in frustration.

Draco squeezed her hand, “I don’t know about that love, but I do know that you’re beautifully optimistic, you always think the best of people, but that doesn’t mean they always deserve it. There’s nothing wrong with asking for a magical vow to keep you safe.”

“Hermione, I don’t think any of our friends would intentionally cause you harm, but Ron has a terrible temper, and Lavender feeds off of it. I wouldn’t put it past them to say something in anger to a reporter that they can’t take back,” Neville added. “You really can't let this go public.”

He and Draco then did that thing where they nodded at each other, the international male signal for acceptance and understanding.

“Okay,” she sighed, “but put your wand away Neville, you can make your oath with everybody else.” She turned back to Draco. “You should go before everybody else arrives, I’m not sure they will all be as sanguine as Neville was to your presence,” she told him reluctantly. She didn’t relish the idea of a trial by fire, but she didn’t want him to leave. However, she needed to talk to her friends, and he owed his parents a visit.

He stood up, pulling her with him. “Okay, love, chin up though, alright? You haven’t done anything to be ashamed of,” he tapped her chin playfully as he spoke.

She nodded and he bent to kiss her passionately, she pulled away abruptly when she remembered Neville was in the room. He chuckled, “I love you,” he murmured, caressing her cheek.

“I love you too.”

He left one last kiss on the crown of her head and then popped away. When she glanced at Neville his cheeks were slightly pinkened but he didn’t look disturbed by their easy affection.

The rest of them arrived almost en masse after that: Harry and Ginny, Hannah and Susan, Ron and Lavender, George and Angelina. Hermione had never before been so uncomfortable having so many Weasleys in her home. She was glad she had decided to keep this gathering small. She hugged and kissed them all in greeting.

“I wanted to talk to you all before we went out. I hate to ask this, but I need you to take a wand oath that you won't speak on the matter I'm about to discuss with you without my permission. Somebody else’s safety depends on it, as well as my own.”

She could see that Harry, Ron and Angelina were all hesitant, but the others immediately removed their wands. She understood Angelina’s hesitation, she knew the older witch least well of anybody in the room. She didn’t know if Harry and Ron’s hesitation was a result of their auror training or if they were just upset that she wasn’t willing to trust them without an oath.

“It’s Granger, she wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” George urged Angelina gently.

She nodded and that seemed to take the fight out of Ron and Harry as well.

Hermione led them through making their oaths and when they were finished she took a deep breath- there was no putting it off any longer. “There have recently been some developments in my life that I wanted you to be aware of.”

“Why the formality, Granger, just spit it out,” George called good-naturedly, “between that and the wand oath you’re starting to worry me.”

She cringed, he was right. Could she have made it anymore obvious that she was uncomfortable?

“Well, I’ve started seeing someone,” she saw Hannah and Susan exchange smug glances.

“And actually, it’s gotten quite serious. And, well, I guess I should just say it: it’s Draco Malfoy.” She resisted the urge to cringe again lest it be misinterpreted, but she’d been anticipating this moment for more than a month and that was the best she could do? Some Gryffindor she was.

There were several beats of complete silence.

“I’m sorry, Hermione, did you just say that you were in a relationship with Draco Malfoy?” Harry spoke first.

That wasn't much of a surprise. Even though the war was over, when a group of former DA members got together like this they still tended to defer automatically to him as the leader.

“I did, yes, Draco and I-”

“What the fuck, Hermione!” Ron exploded, actually jumping up from his place on the sofa.

Sadly, this wasn’t a surprise either. “Please just let me explain,” she said, maintaining her calm. But there was a niggling part of her that was quickly becoming annoyed. These were her friends, she wanted to share her happiness with them, but she didn’t answer to them and she resented his attitude.

“Explain, what’s to explain? You’re dating a bloody Death Eater, and it’s Malfoy! That’s disgusting. How could you do this me?” he demanded, he was an ugly shade of red, walking towards her in a threatening manner, and for the first time in her life she was a little bit afraid of Ronald Weasley. Not because he was any physical threat to her, she could drop him where he stood in a second, but because it she suddenly felt that they were on the brink of something they might not be able to recover from if they didn't quickly find a way to change course, and that was far more terrifying.

“Back off mate,” came Neville’s strong voice from behind her.

“You back off, Neville,” he hissed in response, glowering at Hermione. Her heart fell; she recognized the stubborn set of his jaw and knew that he wasn't even going to hear her out.

“I love him,” she explained desperately, despite the futility, “he's been so wonderful to me.

Ron snorted. “Of course that's what he wants you to think, he's just trying to improve his image. Cozying up to the war heroine is a good way to do that, you're just an easy mark.”

She felt like she'd been slapped. “That's what you think of me, that I'm so naive?” she asked. She was a lot of things but stupid wasn’t one of them, in fact the one thing Ron had never questioned was her intelligence and to here him do so stung much more than she would have imagined.

“No, Ron has a point. You did always aim for the top, Hermione. Malfoy would know that,” said Lavender. “Though I’m kind of surprised you were so easily fooled by a pretty face and a few galleons. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that new necklace you’ve been sporting,” she eyed Hermione and then sneered at her.

Hermione wondered when all this ugliness had started to come between them.

“It’s revolting, Hermione,” Ron continued before she could formulate a response to such a cheap shot. “He’s drawn you in with his galleons and he’s using you to fix his reputation; but once he's gotten what he wants he’ll remind you that he just thinks you're a worthless mudblood and go back to more acceptable witches.”

And there it was. Her best friend’s total lack of confidence in herself and her judgement was far more insulting than anything Draco had said to her when he'd hated her.

“I think we're all just a little confused here,” Harry interjected, “I mean, you kept this from us, and it does seem like you're being manipulated. Malfoy’s a master at that,” his words were reasonable but his voice was cold.

“Then why haven’t we been out in public? We’ve only gone out in the muggle world. If he was using me he’d need to be seen with me,” she argued reasonably.

Harry rolled his eyes. “So he’s playing a long game. You’ve always wanted to to see the best in him, well I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: he’s up to something. And I think part of you knows that or you wouldn’t have been hiding a relationship from your best friends.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her.

“It wasn’t about you, it wasn’t about any of you. It was about me and Draco and trying to figure out our relationship before others got involved. I wanted to make up my own mind.” Surely, that hadn’t been unreasonable? But he just continued to stare at her, eyes cold.

“He cares for her a lot,” Neville interjected, “he was with her when I got here and it was obvious. You're not giving Hermione nearly enough credit.” He looked at Hermione, “tell them the rest,” he urged, “it’ll help them understand and it will explain the need for the oath.”

“Draco is a veela, and I’m his mate. He came to me and told me last month. As I said, I wanted to take some time to explore a possible relationship before we went public. But we’re meant to be together, I know that now.”

Hannah let out a dreamy sigh and despite everything else Hermione had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

“If he's a veela that just means that you have all the control here, Hermione. Break up with him and come back to us. He’s a Death Eater, his family is dangerous, you don’t want any part of that,” Ron argued.

She sighed, he wasn't listening to her at all, but she wasn't just going to give up. “I love him Ronald, I’ve taken the time to get to know him and I’ve fallen in love with him. He’s my perfect match, why wouldn’t I want to be part of that?”

He snorted, “why would you betray us by giving him a chance in the first place? You should have just told him to get lost.”

“Because I liked him!” she finally snapped, “we were becoming friends! And then there he was, offering me a once in a lifetime love. I would have been a fool not to have at least given him a chance. And I thought he deserved a chance to try and prove himself, especially after he told me-” she paused and considered if she wanted to reveal so much to them, but she quickly decided that it was important that they understood all the factors involved. Because she hadn’t made the decision to start seeing Draco lightly, in fact, she’d agonized over it. “Since I’m his mate he can only have children with me. His magic won’t let him get another witch pregnant. Without me two ancient Houses will die out and he will never get to have a family. Don’t you see how serious that is? How much rested on my shoulders? I had to at least see if there was something between us,” she looked at him pleadingly.

She would later look back and realize that was the absolute worst argument she could have made.

“That’s what you should have done! You had a chance to put an end to those two awful families. And how could you even think of having a baby with the ferret? Any kid of his is just going to be evil. And if you’re stupid enough to spread your legs for him, much less have kids with him, then I don't think we can be friends anymore. And I certainly don't want any of your demon spawn anywhere near where they can taint my family.”

Now the intellectual side of her knew that Ron was lashing out, that he was probably feeling very jealous of Draco in this moment, and that the long, ugly history between the Weasleys and the Malfoys was coloring his words. Her brain informed her that maybe she shouldn’t take it personally. But her heart, where the precious children he’d just condemned already lived, wasn't listening.

“Get out of my flat,” she said, pointing to the door, “get out right now and don’t come back! Do not attempt to contact me. I’ll let you know when I think I can stand to look at you again.”

“Don’t bother,” he spat. “Come on, Lav, let’s go.”

Hermione stood, still as a statue until they’d walked out the front door. There was a buzzing in her brain and she barely realized when it closed with a resounding bang.

And then there was silence.

“Well I don’t know about you Gin, but I’m feeling pretty ashamed to be a Weasley right about now,” George said suddenly.

Hermione looked at Ginny who was paler than she’d ever seen her. Her freckles stood out in great contrast to her pallid complexion, and her eyes were full of tears.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” she gasped, “I can’t believe he said that to you, there’s no excuse.”

“He’s just upset,” Harry interrupted, “I'm not sure that I blame him.”

Ginny’s mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me, Harry? He’s supposed to be her best friend! What would you do if somebody spoke to me like that? If somebody talked about our future children like that!”

“That’s different Gin, this is Malfoy.” He spoke Draco’s surname like it was a curse word. Hermione knew he would take Ron’s side, he always had, but that didn’t keep it from hurting.

“I think I need to go too, are you coming Ginny?”

She shook her head vigorously. “No, I’m not, what you’re doing to her right now Harry, it isn't right and I'm not going to stand next to you while you do it.”

“You just don’t get it,” he barked. “I’ll see you all later. “He spun on his heel and left the flat as well.

Ginny took a few determined strides forward and wrapped her arms around Hermione. She tried to get ahold of herself but she couldn’t help it, she burst into tears.

“No offense Ginny,” she said when she had some kind of control over herself, “I’m grateful for the support but I didn’t think you were going to be very happy with me either.”

She huffed out a little laugh. “I mean I’m surprised, and I would like to hear more about how this happened. And I understand that they’re upset, but that doesn’t give them the right to talk to you like that, I'm just so embarrassed. I don’t understand where that came from.”

Neville snorted. “Then you haven’t been paying attention.” Hermione jerked her head around to look at him. “I know the three of you have this weird bond,” he continued, “I know how much you’ve been through together. But sometimes it seems like they think they own you. I can’t even tell you how many wizards I’ve seen them intimidate to stay away from you, I’m not sure they’re even comfortable with our friendship sometimes.”

“What?” she asked.

“I’m not questioning that they love you, but we aren’t at Hogwarts anymore. Things have changed and it’s not fair to you for them to expect your world to revolve around them forever.”

“Neville’s right,” Ginny said suddenly, “I used to be so jealous of you, of how important you are to both of them. But they’ve been holding you back. We came in here and you were positively glowing. I could tell something really amazing had happened to you. Neither of them even asked if you were happy. That’s not okay. I just, I’m so sorry I’ve been such a bitch, shutting you out. I’ll talk to them, if you want.”

Hermione didn’t know how to feel about that confession, or that offer.

“And the rest of you are okay with this news?” she said.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I definitely have questions,” George chimed in, “but you’re not an idiot Granger. If you say this is for real, then it’s for real.”

“You and Harry and Ron weren’t at Hogwarts that last year,” Susan added. “Nobody who saw how Malfoy was that year would honestly believe he was a Death Eater. I actually felt sorry for him.” Hannah and Neville both nodded in agreement.

“She has a point too,” Ginny said quietly, squeezing her tighter.

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to think of a way to express her gratitude but then she heard a pop of elvish apparition. She opened her eyes to see Effie standing in front of her looking decidedly nervous which instantly put Hermione on alert. She’d never seen the elf look anything other than joyful, she adored her work and her master.

“Effie, is something wrong?”

The elf tugged at her ears and looked around at the other occupants of the room nervously, then she looked at Hermione expectantly and she suddenly understood. Effie was doing something she hadn't explicitly been ordered to do and was uneasy about it. She was certainly not going to answer such a vague question in front of strangers.

“Effie, I order you to tell me what happened that has you so upset.”

She sagged in relief, walking forward to stand next to Hermione, placing a hand on her knee, but her eyes were alarmed. “Mistress’ bad friend Harry Potter came to Malfoy Manor and attacked Master Draco!”

Hermione felt her eyes go wide. “Is he hurt?” she asked urgently.

Effie actually smirked at her. “Of course not, my master is a smart wizard, he protects himself and his family! But bad Harry Potter is not leaving, he will be bringing the Ministry to the house! Effie was thinking he might listen to my mistress.”

Hermione sighed. That stupid boy! Though she really shouldn't have been surprised, he'd always been so irrational when it came to Draco. And now he'd used his position as an auror to essentially storm Malfoy Manor, and as Effie had just pointed out he'd surely used enough magic in the process to alert the DMLE considering that Lucius Malfoy was under surveillance as a requirement of his probation. This also explained Effie’s hesitation. She knew Draco well enough to know that he wouldn't want Hermione involved in this, but Effie was smart enough to realize that she was also the best chance of preventing this situation from escalating.

“Effie will you be able to get me through the estate’s wards?”

Effie gave her a sly glance. “Mistress is a Malfoy now, she doesn't need Effie.”

Hermione just stared at her, stunned.

“Okay, well, we’ll definitely be getting back to that later, but for now, maybe I should come with you?” Ginny suggested, a sly smile on her face,“the two of us will have a better chance of calming him down together.”

Hermione looked back to Effie.

“If mistress asks Effie, she can bring mistress’ guest home with her.”

“Are you sure Ginny?”

“I don't have any reason to be bothered by Malfoy Manor and I think it's time I met Draco properly,” she said with an evil little grin- Hermione knew she was going to be the subject of an intense interrogation he moment the redhead got the chance. It was a small price to pay.

“Could you take both of us Effie? I wouldn't know where to apparate.”

She nodded.

Hermione looked around at her guests. “Well, thank you all for coming, but it looks like we’ll have to cut the evening short.”

Susan snorted, “go rescue the idiot before he causes so much trouble that Neville and I have to answer an emergency call because there's been an attack on Malfoy Manor.”

Hermione just shook her head in frustration. Maybe she too could one day look back on this in amusement, but today was not that day. She and Ginny each took one of Effie’s hands and they popped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously considered sending Harry and Ron on an auror mission far away to avoid this confrontation, but that would have been a cop-out. This is Hermione and Draco's story, but there are background issues here that I've hinted at in the past and it was time they were addressed. However, because this is primarily Hermione and Draco’s story you can expect a return to the fluff you've come to expect from me soon.
> 
> Thanks to Weestarmeggie for her patience in listening to me whine and reading portions of this at 6am. Also, I'm posting this on my phone, I've never done that before so tell me if there are issues. Thanks y’all!


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Aside from the fact that he was separated from his mate- his wife, a term which had immediately taken precedence in his mind as it was a product of her choice, and not fate- when all he wanted to do was sequester her in bed for at least a week, Draco was actually having a good night. He would never forget the look of pure joy on his mother's face when he informed his parents that he and Hermione had sealed their bond. Even his father hadn't looked completely appalled. And his mother’s grateful expression when he further explained that Hermione still desired a bonding ceremony and hoped that she would be willing to help plan it nearly broke his heart? She'd had so little to enjoy these past few years.

They had just sat down to dinner when a resounding clang sounded throughout the Manor, signaling that the wards were being breached. He felt the moment somebody surpassed them but they hadn’t failed like they would have if somebody was trying to get through them entirely by force. This was somebody who already had - restricted- access to the property. He knew immediately that it was Potter and Weasley. He hadn't thought they would take the news lying down, but this seemed a bit excessive.

“What have you done to her!” a voice bellowed.

Potter.

He was the auror in charge of his father’s probation and at one time Draco had actually felt grateful for it because, to give the boy-who-lived credit, he had at least treated his parents with respect and given them their dignity back. But now it was backfiring on them. Because it meant that he had access to the Manor, to their home.

He quietly urged his parents to let him handle the situation and to go wait in their suite. His father looked defiant, but he saw his mother elbow him in the ribs and then practically drag him out of the room. He trusted that she would keep him under control until he could get rid of the trespassers.

There was a time when he would have loved to wind Potter and Weasley up further, transform and terrorize them a little bit in retaliation for this tantrum. But he knew, he'd felt how much Hermione had agonized over her confession to her friends and the last thing he wanted to do was make things worse for her. Before last night he might not have been able to resist, but as of today her wishes were as settled in his soul as his own. And they were no real threat to him. As much as it would amuse him to scare the chosen one and his obnoxious tag-along out of their wits, he could resist. He rather liked the idea of being the bigger person.

He just waited quietly, and with no fanfare he took out his wand and cast the strongest shield he knew in front of himself. Not because he was frightened. He was just quickly trying to figure out how to best moderate this situation without alerting the Ministry or Hermione and if he had to cast any defensive spells that would probably be impossible.

Potter appeared in the dining room less than a minute after he'd originally called out. And despite what Draco had assumed, he was alone, no gangly redhead in sight. He looked a little deranged; jaw set, clothes askew, and for the first time Draco considered that those famous green eyes were the same color as the killing curse. Because if looks could kill, Draco would be dead.

“What have you done to her!” he repeated with a roar.

He sighed. “She's not going to thank you for this, Potter.”

“What do you know? You don't know her,” he spat, his face turning an ugly puce color.

“Until about a minute ago I would have conceded that I didn't know her as well as you do, I haven't been lucky enough to have half the time with her that you have. But now I'm starting to think that you're actually the one who doesn't know her at all. Like I said Potter, she won't thank you for this. She can fight her own battles, not that there is one to be fought here. I would never hurt her.”

Potter snorted. “Right, like all those times you called her a mudblood was just your way of expressing your undying love for her.”

However true, that statement stung, and he was certain that he and Potter could actually agree on one thing: he'd done nothing to deserve Hermione, but she’d agreed to be his and he wasn't giving her up just because her friend didn't like it. So, he kept his head and continued on calmly. “I’ve apologized for that and she's forgiven me.”

“You're up to something!” He hissed, “you've tricked her!” He insisted, pointing accusingly.

Draco scoffed. “Seriously, you don't see her clearly at all, do you?”

There was a pop and Draco turned to see Hermione standing there clutching Effie’s hand and the Weasley girl- of all people- holding the other. Hermione didn't hesitate, she marched right over and put herself between him and Potter. Her magic felt all wrong and Draco didn't like it at all. He took a deep breath; talk about trying his patience.

“Love, I've got a pretty good hold on my protective instincts at the moment, but cut me some slack and don't put yourself between me and the wand wielding maniac.”

“Like you would ever just stand by and let somebody who once nearly killed me point their wand at me,” she ground out through clenched teeth and settled into a protective stance.

And that's when it hit him. All the rage, the fear he could feel coming from her, was on his behalf. Something warm blossomed in his chest even as he began to panic at the danger she would willingly put herself in for him. Of course, he would do the same, but it had never occurred to him that it would go both ways.

He stepped forward and cupped her hips in his hands, bringing her smaller body flush against him. He felt her immediately relax, and his own frayed nerves were soothed as well. Potter’s anger seemed to have melted away at the appearance of Hermione along with his own fiancée. Now he just looked confused, his wand at his side dangling loosely in his limp hand.

But Draco didn't say anything to take advantage of his disorientation. He could feel Hermione gathering herself, her magic spooling back to its normal state. And she had made her position clear: she wanted to handle this, he would just be there to support her.

“What are you doing here Harry?” Her voice was strong and steady, but ineffably sad.

Potter snorted, but there was no venom in it. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I know you didn't miss the portion of the evening when I informed the people who I considered to be my dearest friends that Draco and I are in a relationship. When I said that I love him,” she let out an insincere little laugh, “I’ve never been happier by the way, thank you for asking, your concern for my feelings is touching,” she hissed with scorching sarcasm.  
Potter had the decency to look shamefaced.

“So I think you know why I am here and that I have considerably more right to be than you do. So, I’ll ask you again: what are you doing here Harry?” She gestured to their surroundings, “Look around, this is a crime. The war is over, and what you are doing right now is a crime. One you exploited your role in the ministry to commit.”

“I was just worried about you,” he mumbled, looking at the floor.

Draco halfway expected his mother to walk back into the room to tell him to speak up and enunciate.

“No, that’s not good enough,” she said firmly and Potter’s eyes flew to hers, “this is me putting my foot down Harry. This is me drawing a line in the sand because we are so far over the line that any rational person would consider to be acceptable behavior, that I can’t even see it anymore.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying?” he was starting to sound a little desperate.

“It means that I can’t do this anymore. I love you, I always will, there are bonds between us that can never be broken. And I don’t want to lose your friendship but I won’t be your girl friday anymore.”

And that’s when Draco learned why Potter had truly been sorted into Gryffindor.

The stupid, reckless boy- because that is what he resembled at the moment- rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know what that means Hermione.”

She let a sad little laugh. “The fact that you need me to explain this to you actually demonstrates my point perfectly. A girl friday is a go to girl, one who is counted on by her male counterparts especially when they are overwhelmed and need help completing their own tasks. She is often taken for granted and rarely gets any credit, but she is always expected to be there. That’s always how our friendship worked and I guess it was okay at Hogwarts. You needed me to survive and I was happy to help. But the war is over and I want my own life separate from you and Ron. I deserve that.”

“We never wanted to keep you from having a good life,” Potter argued weakly.

Hermione sighed, “I actually believe you, I don’t think you set out to make things difficult for me, you're just used to me being willing to drop everything and come when you needed me.” she paused and squared her shoulders again, “but you started to take that for granted, and I let you. Neville told me about the wizards you’ve been warning off because the two of you are unwilling to share me. You literally think you have the right to invade the grounds of an Ancient and Noble House because I've done something of which you disapprove and you want to put a stop to it. Don't you see how out of line that is?”

“You didn’t even consider us.” He said petulantly.

“Actually, I did. There's hardly been a decision I've made since I was twelve years old that I haven't considered you first. I knew you wouldn't like it but I decided it was time to put my feelings first. I think what you're really angry about is that I didn't consult you, but I don't need your permission to enter a relationship, Harry. What's really hurtful right now is that you continue to act like your feelings are more important than mine on this issue.”

That seemed to bring him up short. “They're not,” he finally said, “I just don't trust Malfoy, I don't think his intentions are pure.”

“Alright Harry, setting aside how blatantly insulting it is that after all we’ve been through together you think I'm some stupid, naive little witch whose judgement can be swayed by- what was that Ron said? Some charm and a few galleons?” Draco had never been so grateful to be an occlumens as he viciously pushed these words from his mind lest he lose his temper and show Potter what a veela with an upset mate was capable of. “What you're saying is that the reason you've come here is to assure yourself that Draco truly loves me and will treat me well, and if you had proof of that you would have no further objection to our relationship?”

Potter fidgeted uncomfortably and Draco wondered if he knew he was walking into a trap.

“Well sure, but that's not exactly the kind of thing you can prove.”

Triumph. Oh, she had him right where she wanted him.

“Maybe for most people, but Draco isn't most people,” she said smugly, pride radiating through their bond. Merlin she was going to kill him. He should definitely have forced her to stay in bed for a week. She placed both of her hands on his left arm and turned slightly to look up at him. “May I show him?” she asked.

He just nodded, as uncomfortable as he was discussing his dark past with Potter and a Weasley around, this would make her point neatly. She began carefully rolling up the sleeve of his robes until his arm was bared up to his elbow and then she held it out in Potter’s direction so that he could see the unmarked skin.

“Good Godric!” the female Weasley- Ginny- gasped, taking several steps in their direction, her hands outstretched as if she meant to touch him, but she stopped abruptly about three feet in front of them, apparently realizing what she was doing, “it's gone, but that's supposed to be impossible!”

“I don't understand,” said Potter dumbly, “is it a glamour?”

Ginny made an annoyed sound at the back of her throat. “Wow, I really have agreed to marry an idiot. We all know you can't glamour a Dark Mark. It's just gone!”

“Yes, but we all know you can't remove a Dark Mark either,” Potter snapped derisively.

“And yet, that's exactly what we did,” said Hermione, pulling on his arm and wrapping it back around her waist.

“How?” wondered Ginny.

“Love is powerful magic, more powerful than any other, I would say. You know something about that, don't you Harry?” she asked sweetly. He narrowed his eyes at her but didn't say anything. “Anyway, Draco is a veela, I am his mate, that is a sacred bond and when we sealed it, it drove the rest of the dark magic away. It simply couldn't exist amongst something so pure.”

“That's beautiful,” breathed Ginny, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh!” She exclaimed suddenly, “that's why that elf said that you were a Malfoy now, because you've bonded. Congratulations!”

“Wait,” said Potter, “you're married?” He looked at Hermione like he was a wounded puppy.

His fiancée heaved a great sigh and she and Hermione exchanged a look. “I think maybe we should go before you pull a Ron and say something you can’t take back. I have some things to explain to you and after that we're going to discuss just how much groveling it's going to take to make up for this.”

Potter looked like he wanted to argue but was too afraid to do so.

Hermione turned and went up on her toes to whisper into his ear. “Do you and your parents want to press charges? He did break in here. He’ll probably only get a slap on the wrist given who he is, but I would understand if you can't just let this go.”

He shook his head. Doing so would only look petty and there was a much greater chance that it would only ratchet up the animosity between them rather than teach the other wizard any kind of lesson. “I have a feeling Red here is going to make him suffer for this.”

She shot him a coy little grin and nodded. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, leaving a kiss on his jaw.

When he looked away from her Ginny was smirking at him, Potter managed to look defeated and disbelieving at the same time.

Ginny stepped forward and gave Hermione a gentle kiss on the cheek. “I really am happy for you,” she said quietly.

“Thank you so much Gin.”

She just nodded and then grinned at him, keeping eye contact even though she was speaking to Hermione. “I'll owl you this week and we can make plans for dinner. You have a lot to tell me. Bring your hot hubby, I'll leave my idiot fiancé at home.”

Hermione giggled quietly and Ginny grabbed Potter- who still appeared completely dumbfounded- and led him out of the room. He didn't attempt to go show them out, the elves would take care of it.

“Well, she's really something,” he observed to Hermione.

She nodded. “I don't think I've been giving her enough credit, she didn't hesitate to support me or to come here with me,” she explained, a hitch in her voice.

The moment they were out of sight she slumped in his arms and let out a heaving sob.

Maybe he'd hunt down Potter and Weasley and kill them after all.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

She collapsed into Draco’s arms, not the least bit ashamed of how much she needed him right now. He just stood there, literally holding her up while she cried.

“Hi,” she murmured when she finally caught her breath.

“Tough evening?” he responded wryly.

“You could say that,” she responded in kind.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She sighed. “I promise to tell you everything but I’m not ready yet.”

“Take your time, love. Let’s get you home then.”

She went to disentangle herself from him, and when she looked up at his face she sucked in a surprised breath. All the hurt and anger she had been feeling melted away and she was suddenly overwhelmed with need, and it wasn’t entirely her own.

“Draco,” she said, voice husky with desire, she licked her lips, “you have a bed here, don’t you?”

“Hermione,” he groaned.

“I’m serious,” she said, it felt urgent that she be with him again, it had been too long. Everything else faded away and the world only consisted of the two of them. “Take me upstairs, or I don’t know, wherever your room it.”

And then she was in his arms, cradled against his chest and he was striding from the room towards the family wing. But as soon as they exited the dining room she spotted his parents loitering in the corridor and if it wasn’t so embarrassing she would have laughed; they’d been eavesdropping like teenagers.

Narcissa had her hands clasped together and she was visibly upset. Lucius was leaning on his walking stick and casting surreptitious worried glances at his wife. It was something to behold. Hermione hid her face in Draco’s neck.

“I asked you to go wait in your rooms,” Draco hissed.

“And yet we remain the parents and you are the child,” his father drawled in return.

“Is everything alright?” she heard his mother ask.

“Everything is fine, I’m just taking Hermione to my rooms.”

“Are you sure?” She felt Narcissa lay a hand on her shoulder.

“Narcissa.” Lucius sounded exasperated.

There was a pause. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Oh,” she said, “of course. I hope that we’ll see you two in the morning.”

Hermione couldn’t bring herself to respond, much less turn and face the woman.

“Goodnight Mother,” Draco responded simply and then she felt him begin to move swiftly down the corridor. After a few moments he began to shake with mirth.

She couldn’t help it, she began to giggle against the skin of his neck. He held her closer but she could feel his amusement increase and they began to feed off of each other.

They finally arrived… somewhere and he set her down and she opened her eyes and looked around to find herself in a bedroom. Draco pulled her back to him and nuzzled her neck. Then he groaned.

“I can’t believe I'm about to say this, but my mother’s completely ruined the mood, hasn't she?”

“Oh Merlin Draco! What must your parents think of me? First my best friend breaks into their house and then they catch me sneaking off to do...that with their son! I'm absolutely mortified!”

“Do _that_ , do _that_?” Draco repeated. “First of all witch, there was no sneaking. I was carrying _my_ wife through the halls of _my_ home to _my_ room where I intended to make love to her. We're not going to call it ‘that’ like it's something to be ashamed of.”

She could tell he was trying to sound stern but he couldn't hide his amusement.

She went up on her toes and craned her neck to kiss his jaw. “I'm sorry, I just can't make love to you knowing that's what your parents think we’re up here doing.”

“Mother would be terribly disappointed to know we’re not up here potentially making her a grandchild,” he said wryly.

She snorted. “Sorry Narcissa. This witch is staying on the potion for the foreseeable future.”

“I know.” He kissed the top of her head. “Would you at least consider getting naked with me and going to bed, I want to feel your skin against mine.”

She grinned up at him. “Now that I can do.” She immediately began reaching back to try and unzip her dress.

He laughed at her awkward maneuver and reached out to help her, then suddenly stopped, zipper halfway undone. “Are you hungry? Neither of us has eaten.”

“Food is the last thing I want right now, but I'll sit with you if you want something. I know how much it takes to keep you going,” she smirked at him.

He rolled his eyes, he knew how funny she found what she'd deemed his ‘veela appetite.’ “I'm fine, I just want to be with you right now,” he said as he finished removing her dress and started to work on his robes, “maybe in a couple of hours we can have something brought up.”

She stepped out of her shoes and unfastened her bra, looking up just in time to see him remove his shirt and froze. She'd seen him like this countless times before and yet he never failed to take her breath away. She let her bra drop to the floor and approached him, wrapping her arms around him, her breasts pressed against his bare chest. How quickly she'd become comfortable being naked around him. “You're so beautiful. I can't believe that you’re mine.”

He took a fortifying breath. “I know what you mean.”

“I've never felt so safe before,” she admitted.

“I would never let anything happen to you.”

“It's not just that, not just my physical safety.” Though, come to think of it, she was inside Malfoy Manor and had yet to even flinch. “I can be completely me when I'm with you, it's freedom and safety all at once.”

He stroked up and down her back with one hand as he worked the other into her hair, pressing her more firmly against him. “Our bonding tied us together in ways that are hard to describe until you’ve felt them. I didn’t understand what my ancestors were trying to say until now. It’s not just that I feel what you feel. They are my feelings too. We are...one soul in two bodies? Or two souls merged, perhaps?”

She considered this. “That’s why you were so calm earlier, isn’t it? You’ve never been able to resist when Harry’s baited you before.”

“He’s an annoyance, but in the end he means nothing to me. Would I have enjoyed knocking him down a peg or two? Of course. But it would have made things worse for you and that would have been a lot more painful for me than enduring his temper tantrum,” he explained.

“God, my best friend broke into your house and threw a temper tantrum. I am so sorry,” she groaned into the skin of his chest where she’d hidden her face to try and disguise her embarrassment.

“You know,” he said calmly, “I really enjoyed that little speech you gave him earlier about how you were done cleaning up his messes. Don’t ruin that now by apologizing for him. And by the way, this is your house now too.”

She ignored that last statement. “But if it wasn’t for me he never would have done that,” she countered.

“Yet his decisions and his actions are his own.”

She sighed. “Well, thank you for not making things worse.”

He laughed. “Weren’t you listening, my motives were purely selfish”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say Draco. You’re a good man and I’m really proud to be your wife.”

“I love you,” he whispered reverently, “now,” he said more loudly, less seriously, “can we please get into bed?”

She nodded and stepped away from him, pulling down her knickers and kicking them off. Then with a saucy smile over her shoulder she ran over to the bed and crawled under the covers. “Merlin, Malfoy, you’ve ruined regular sheets for me, it’s a really good thing you’re rich.” She stretched luxuriously against the absolutely decadent bedding. And then, all of a sudden, he was there beside her pulling her into his arms, his skin feeling even more delicious than the sheets.

“Well, _Malfoy_ , you’ve ruined me for sleeping alone so I guess we’ll just have to spend the rest of our lives sleeping together in expensive sheets which we can easily afford because we are rich.”

She’d always thought she’d keep her name, but that simply wasn’t something that was done in the magical world. If she insisted she knew their society would just interpret it as her rejection of his family. And given the gleeful way he’d just called her ‘Malfoy’ she didn’t even want to anymore. So, she just smiled, arranged herself against him, and closed her eyes.

She awoke with the sun the next morning, despite the many times they’d woken each other up the night before, they’d gone to bed so early that she was well rested. She carefully pulled herself out of Draco’s arms and grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed to wrap herself in. Then, for the first time, she took stock of the room where she’d spent the night, the room Draco had grown up in. Something about that made her feel warm inside.

It was, unsurprisingly large. There was a small sitting area in front of the fireplace which was surrounded by full to bursting bookcases. The furnishings were dark, the color scheme was rather neutrally masculine, dark blues and greys, but it was not at all unwelcoming. The bed, though, made her smirk. It’s size rivaled that of theirs at the castle. It was absurd for one person and she made a note to ask him if he’d always had the same one. She couldn’t imagine a tiny Draco crawling up onto that huge bed. Now, though, he looked perfect in it, he was stretched out, sheets pulled down to his waist leaving his beautiful torso on display, his pale skin and hair a stark contrast to the dark bedding. He looked every bit the ethereal creature she knew him to be.

She tiptoed over to one window and almost gasped aloud when she saw the view. She’d known that Malfoy Manor was rather legendary for its beauty as well as its size, but she never thought she’d be able to appreciate it after what had happened to her here. The grounds were obviously vast. There were manicured gardens surrounding the house, and from this height she could see how meticulously they’d been arranged. Beyond was a golden field, which encompassed a large lake and it was all surrounded by woods. She could see herself laying in the grass, basking on the lakeshore, she could practically feel the sun on her skin. Lost in her daydream she almost jumped at the sudden sensation of arms snaking around her waist, but she quickly melted into the familiar embrace.

“Sneaking out of bed on me, are you?” he growled in her ear.

She bit her lip. “I just didn’t want to wake you with my restlessness, I thought you might be worn out,” she taunted.

He pulled her more firmly against him so that she could feel how very not worn out he was. “We have a couple of hours before Mother and Father will be at breakfast.”

She squeezed the hands resting on her abdomen. “Then by all means, take me back to bed.”

Two and a half hours later saw Hermione practically skipping down the halls of Malfoy Manor, Draco trailing behind her, watching her with amusement.

“I didn’t think it would be so beautiful!” she confessed.

He just chucked and grabbed her hand to slow her down and bring her into the breakfast room. When she realized they’d arrived she sobered immediately and grasped his arm tightly.

“Ready?” he wondered.

“As I’ll ever be.”

He escorted her through the doorway and she willed herself not to blush when she spotted his parents seated at the table. They stood immediately and came to greet them.

“Welcome to the family, my dear,” Narcissa said, stepping forward to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you.” She ducked her head. “Thank you for your son,” she said more quietly.

Narcissa gave her a beaming smile that transformed her from beautiful to breathtaking.

Then Lucius stepped forward, took her hand and gently kissed her knuckles. “I would like to repeat my wife’s sentiments. Also, it would be odd for me to continue calling you Miss Granger, so if you will give me leave to use your given name, you may also call me Lucius.”

“Of course, and thank you,” she answered. She would simply avoid calling him anything until she got used to the changes in her life, because this was just too bizarre at the moment.

Draco led her to a seat and pulled out her chair for her as they all settled around the table.

“Hermione and I discussed it last night and I’ve told her she’s not to apologize for Potter’s actions.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, it was one thing not to apologize to him, but she’d fully intended to offer one to his parents.

“Of course not,” said Narcissa firmly, “that was not your fault, think nothing of it.”

“Narcissa is correct. If Mr. Potter wishes to apologize to us for invading our privacy I would be willing to hear it, but not from you.”

Hermione bit her lip, there was really nothing to say to that. And if she was being honest she just wanted to forget that last evening had ever happened, so she just nodded. There was a silence as the elves popped in with the food.

“When were you thinking of holding the wedding?” Narcissa asked once they’d been served.

Hermione did her best to hide her smile, the woman was obviously chomping at the bit. She glanced at Draco. “Well, we hadn’t discussed it, but my preference would be as soon as possible. I don’t know how long it would take to make arrangements, or how much notice we need to give the guests. In the muggle world that would be six to eight weeks.”

“Not too soon,” interjected Draco.

She whipped her head around to face him. He was the last person she’d expected to object.

“Love,” he said gently, “we haven’t even gone public yet. If it happens too soon they’ll think we’re trying to cover up a scandal. It won’t be good for your reputation.”

“My reputation has been on a roller-coaster ride since I was eleven years old. I couldn’t care less anymore,” she snorted.

“I don’t know what that means.”

She waved her hand in an up and down motion to indicate the mercurial nature of wizarding society’s opinion of her. He nodded in understanding.

“And anyway, in nine months when there’s no baby everybody will know there was no scandal to cover up.”

Draco looked amused at her frank observation and she could feel herself going red. She cut her eyes to his parents. They seemed unfazed, though, if she wasn’t imagining things Narcissa did seem slightly disappointed.

“We should be able to plan something appropriate in a couple of months,” Narcissa broke the silence, “though we’ll need to make some decisions rather quickly to make sure the invitations go out in time.”

“How about around Christmas time,” Hermione suggested tentatively, “I always thought that a holiday wedding would be rather lovely.”

Narcissa’s eyes lit up. “We used to have a Yule celebration every year, we haven’t in several years but we could use the wedding to resurrect it,” Narcissa said, her excitement palpable.

“Mother-”

“That sounds lovely,” Hermione interrupted quickly, she knew why the Malfoy Yule parties had stopped, and why they’d never started again and she didn’t mind using her wedding to bring them back. This was her family now and if she had to use every bit of political capital she’d earned to restore their reputation, she was happy to do it. She met Draco’s eyes and willed him to understand, he must have felt her sincerity because he just smiled at her softly and tilted his head in acquiescence.

“A red and green theme, do you think?” Narcissa asked, ignoring their byplay.

Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Too bold. And then of course there would be the unending commentary about our obvious attempts to utilize our house colors. I was thinking a theme that’s more like winter itself. Ice and evergreen. I was thinking ice blue for my gown, specifically.” She held up the hand which bore her engagement ring to demonstrate her point and then her eyes went wide and she looked at Draco. “Forget I said that!”

He laughed. “Why?”

“Because the groom isn’t supposed to know about the bride’s dress before the wedding, it’s a muggle tradition, it’s bad luck!” she cried.

“Muggles really are weird sometimes,” he snickered, “and anyway, we’re already married.”

“Well you’re still not going to see it before the day,” she insisted.

“That sounds lovely, dear, you have good taste,” Narcissa interjected again, obviously trying to keep the conversation on track.

As soon as she said that she realized that Narcissa’s question about a red and green color scheme had been a test of sorts.

“Thank you,” she said primly, she’d have to watch herself from now on.

“What about the venue?” Narcissa asked carefully. It was another test, though Hermione detected real anxiety in her demeanor.

She was no fool, the Yule celebrations would traditionally have been held at Malfoy Manor, and so would any Malfoy wedding. But she’d made it very clear that she wasn’t willing to live here. Would she be willing to keep these other traditions or would she insist on a change of venue? Just how far was she willing to accept the legacy she’d married into? She didn’t even hesitate, before this morning she would have, but she was beginning to love this beautiful house.

“I assumed we’d have it here,” she said, as nonchalantly as she could manage.

Narcissa looked like she was about to run around the table and hug her. Even Lucius looked faintly approving.

“Hermione,” Draco interrupted firmly, demanding her attention. She turned to look at him and could tell immediately that he was not going to be put off so easily this time, “are you sure, you don’t have to. We can have it in the glen, or anywhere else you could possibly want.”

“I’d prefer to keep the glen just as a haven for us and our friends and family. If your parents are gracious enough to open their home for us to hold our wedding, then I’d be honored to have it here. Merlin, Draco, any girl in the country would be thrilled to have their wedding here, it’s better than Pemberley!”

“What is Pemberley?”

“It’s a fictional estate in a muggle book I love. It’s described rather idyllically.” And that’s when she got a rather amusing idea. “Actually, I have more than one copy at my flat. You should read it, you and Mr. Darcy have quite a few things in common.”

“And Mr. Darcy is?” he drawled.

“The hero.”

“The hero, you say,” he smirked, eyes twinkling. She could practically see his ego swell. “What is this book? I do think I’d like to read it.”

It was her turn to smirk. “It’s called ‘Pride and Prejudice.’”

That shut him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fluff is back! I don't know if you guys missed it, but I did! Thanks to Weestarmeggie for beta-reading! And thanks for reading!


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

“Honey, I’m home!” he called out jokingly after landing in the entrance hall. 

They had finally moved fully into the castle and had quickly discovered that if you stood in just the right place inside the front door your voice would carry throughout the whole house. He was certain his ancestors had built it that way intentionally. And, sure enough, it was just a moment before a ghostly looking otter came gamboling down the grand staircase opposite the entrance and stopped in front of him. It did a happy little flip and winked at him.

“I’m in the library,” it informed him in Hermione's voice. 

He rolled his eyes, he could have guessed that. He made for the stairs, taking them two at a time. It hadn't gotten any easier to be away from her for an entire work day and he was anxious to get back to her. The past few weeks had been a challenge, both more wonderful and more difficult than he'd imagined anything could be. 

They'd gone public with their relationship a couple of weeks before via an exclusive interview with Rita Skeeter. Those hours they'd spent with her had been some of the longest of Draco's life, she'd practically salivated over them and he left the meeting feeling the distinct need to bathe thoroughly. He couldn't believe he hadn't realized how odious she was when he'd dealt with her as a teenager.

The article went over about as well as he'd assumed it would. There was vast speculation about what each of them had to gain from the relationship, some people thought it was an all out stunt. His parents support for them was considered to be nothing but lip service. And they were openly gawked at when they spent time in wizarding areas. Hermione at least had the support of her inner circle of friends, a few of whom had even been gracious enough to speak to the press and publicly back their relationship, but that had the unfortunate side effect of making the silence of the male two-thirds of the Golden Trio deafening. 

Hermione hadn't spoken to either of her two supposed best friends since the night she'd told them about their relationship. She'd written Weasley a letter telling him that if he wished to apologize, she would hear it; he hadn't responded. And as much as he hated it for Hermione, Draco couldn't help but think that it might not be for the best. Because now that he knew what the other wizard had actually said to his wife, he wasn't sure he would be able to refrain from killing him if he ever saw him again. 

Ginny had tried to force Potter to apologize but when Hermione found out she had said that she didn't want it unless it was freely offered. Draco got the impression that things were quite frosty in the Weasley/Potter household over the whole issue. Ginny, on the other hand, had been an unexpected boon. The three of them had dinner together as she had suggested, and after that she'd become a frequent presence in their home. He appreciated her obvious efforts to fill the gap that Potter and the other Weasley had left in Hermione’s life. Also, she was a sarcastic firecracker and Draco found himself liking her very much- a fact he did his best to hide by deriding her at every opportunity. In return she flirted with him shamelessly.

So, all in all, it could have been worse. Still, Draco missed the weeks before anybody had known about their relationship when he and Hermione had been in their own happy bubble shielded from the outside world and its derision. But he still had her, and in the end that was all that really mattered. 

He entered the library to see that she was sprawled out on the floor in front of the fire surrounded by wedding planning materials; parchment, photographs, fabric swatches all arranged in what- he was sure- was some meticulous system Hermione had designed for maximum efficiency. She’d had lunch with his mother and aunt and by the looks of things, they’d been very busy. He tiptoed his way over to her.

“Careful,” she said absentmindedly, “I have a system.”

He rolled his eyes at her predictability and tossed the book he was carrying onto her lap before flopping down on the floor next to her. The witch was slowly leeching all sense of propriety out of him. His mother must not have realized that or she wouldn’t be nearly so fond of her.

“You think you’re really funny, don’t you?” He pointed to the book in her lap.

She looked down at the copy of ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and smirked at him. The expression was almost startling in its familiarity and it occurred to him that it was possible he was rubbing off on her as well. 

“How far did you get?” she asked.

He’d had very little time to read over the past weeks. There had been dinners with her friends, with his parents and Andromeda, planned outings, but mostly there was just his wife. She was insatiable; they were insatiable when they were together. Their time alone was spent holding each other, learning not just what they each liked physically, but the deepest desires of their souls.

And they had a wedding to plan, his mother as well as his mate were very firm about that, and Hermione wouldn’t just let him slide by on the decision making. She insisted that he wouldn’t be a mere guest at their public bonding. All in all, it left very little time for reading. Even great works of literature like Hermione assured him this Jane Austen produced. 

“He proposed to her, how could he possibly have thought she would want to marry him after the way he behaved?” he answered her question bitingly.

“Ah, the Hunsford proposal,” she mused, shrugging. “He’s used to getting his way. It hadn’t occurred to him that she would be anything other than ecstatic to have him rescue her from what he viewed as obscurity.”

“Is that what you think of me?” He knew she was teasing him, but he couldn’t help the part of him that still worried about her opinion of him.   
But then he felt the wave of love surging through their bond. 

“Read the rest of the book, sweetheart. I wasn’t kidding when I said he was the hero.” 

“But you were having me on?” 

She grinned impishly at him even as she crawled onto his lap. “A little bit,” she admitted. “But when you finish you’ll see that it was much more of a compliment than it was a joke.” 

She settled on his lap and tilted her face up to him, clearly anticipating a kiss. He was happy to oblige.

She sighed happily. “I've been waiting for that.”

“Me too.” He kissed her temple. “How was your day?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” he answered, “obviously I had some time to read over lunch. And I think I might have to go to Germany for a few days next month. There's some issues with our suppliers that aren't being resolved as I'd like and I think I'm going to have to handle it myself.”

She made a sympathetic noise and started playing with his hair.

“And yours?” he wondered.

“Dull,” she responded immediately, “thank Merlin I had lunch with your mother and Andromeda to break up the monotony.”

“It seems as if that was productive at least.” He gestured to the piles of materials surrounding them. 

“Your mother is almost terrifying in her efficiency. There's a list of decisions we have to make and I've arranged it all by category.” 

He chuckled. “Alright, love, well where do we start?”

“Actually, there was something I wanted to discuss with you first,” she said as she toyed with the sleeve of his robes, a sure sign of nerves.

“What's that?”

She took a deep breath raised her chin to meet his eyes. “I want to quit my job.”

Part of him was surprised but he’d also been anticipating this, she was miserable at the Ministry, he just thought it would take her longer to admit it. “Okay,” he said simply, it was safer to allow her to explain herself rather than risk offending her by asking the wrong question.

“I was telling your mother about my frustrations with the Ministry and she helped me to look at things in a way I'd never considered before.”

Draco shook his head ruefully. “I'm sure she did.” He was very sure that his mother had found some way to make Hermione see things the way she wanted her to see them. Hermione was a brilliant witch but she wasn't used to being surrounded by Slytherins, but at least Andromeda could be counted upon to keep her from being egregiously taken advantage of.

“She pointed out that I might be letting my pride get in the way.”

“Your pride?” he wondered as he absentmindedly ran a hand up and down her denim clad thigh. 

“Yes, because I don't actually need this job to make a living. But I’m bored in my position and I don't feel like I'm accomplishing anything, or that I will be able to in the near future either. Perhaps I could, in a few years, if I stuck around and climbed my way up the ladder but I'd still be in a bureaucratic environment and that means it's always going to be slow going. Which means there's not really any ideological reason for me to stay where I am either.”

“Except that we just recently went public with our relationship and considering that your own best friend accused you of being with me for my money, if you quit your job there will be no end to the people who believe it as well,” he supplied, catching on to her meaning.

“Which is stupid, right?” she exclaimed, “I shouldn't live my life based on what other people think.”

“There's nothing wrong with not wanting to have your name dragged through the mud,” he argued, and immediately winced, “I apologize, that was a poor choice of words.”

“It’s okay,” she patted his arm, “I know what you meant and you have a point, but I don't think it's enough reason to stay at the Ministry when I could be doing good elsewhere.”

He reared back in surprise. “Have you been offered a position somewhere else?” 

She shook her head. “No I was actually thinking, and your mother seemed to agree that it was a good idea, that I might start my own charitable foundation.” She peered up at him shyly. “I know you only mentioned it in passing but you seemed to support the idea.”

Of course his mother thought that was a good idea. Malfoy women had never worked in the past and the idea of Hermione running a charitable foundation would be much more palatable to her than watching her continue to report to the Ministry everyday just to collect something as crass as a salary. Luckily for his mother this was something that Hermione also desired so he wouldn’t call her out on her ulterior motives. 

“I’d support anything you wanted to do, love,” he said quietly, “and I added your name to our vaults for a reason. I’m not your father, you don’t need to ask my permission to spend our money.” She’d actually seemed faint when he’d taken her to Gringotts and after adding her to his accounts, had given her a tour of the vaults and she’d realized how vast his wealth was. He worried that she would never come to accept that what was his was hers. He loved his parents and in many ways admired their marriage, but he couldn’t imagine setting Hermione up with an allowance and her own vault like she was a child and not his wife, the way his father had with his mother. 

“I know that, but this is a big decision Draco, this is the kind of things couples discuss.”

That was a fair point.

“Okay, well tell me what your imagining.”

“I have so many ideas!” she burst out excitedly, “of course I want to do something to aid magical creatures, specifically werewolves. Nobody should have to suffer that transformation without wolfsbane. But I also want to do something for my fellow muggleborns. Perhaps design some kind of system to make their transition into our world easier, something that would include their families. But-” she cut herself off and gazed at him out of the corner of her eye, “I think I’d need your help.”

“I doubt that,” he chuckled, “you’re brilliant.”

“I have my strengths but I don’t know anything about running a business. This obviously wouldn’t be designed to make a profit, but I think a lot of the same principles would apply.”

He nodded along with her enthusiastic rambling.

“And I know that you’re busy, but I was really hoping this was something that we could both be involved in creating. And that it would be something that would be a legacy for our children to be proud of.”

“Now that sounds like something my mother would say.”

She shrugged. “She did, but she’s not wrong. What do you think?”

“I think I’ve rarely seen you this excited about anything that isn’t an old rare book and I’m for anything that makes you this happy.” He smiled at her and kissed her nose. “Can I assume Andromeda also agrees?”

She nodded. “Andromeda always thought that I was wasted in my job, and you know she’s no fan of the Ministry.” Draco nodded in agreement, his aunt had no love for or trust in the Ministry. He didn’t blame her, she’d had a hard life and their government had never been her ally. She easily could have lost her grandson to Harry Potter if he’d pressed the issue. “She also pointed out that I took a job at the Ministry to stay close to Harry and Ron and that it was time to curtail that habit.”

“Is that true?”

She shrugged. “Probably, at least partially. I was so used to being around them, it felt foreign to be at Hogwarts without them, so when I got the job offer it made sense for me to take it, I could help magical creatures and be near my friends in case they needed me.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I’m sorry, I know you miss them.”

“I do, but this is their choice.” She shook her head forcefully, as if to shake off the thought. “There’s one more thing,” she said, ducking her head again.

“What’s that?” he chuckled, it never failed to amuse him when she got shy like this, it was so antithetical to her usual personality. 

“I suppose I’ve been thinking a lot about the future today.”

“Oh?” he questioned nonchalantly, but his heart began to beat a little faster. 

“I want to add some rooms to the master wing,” she said, “I spoke to Cori about it and she said the elves would be happy to help.”

Cori was one of the elders of the glen elves and the unofficial chieftess of their village. And she adored Hermione, as did all the others. He was sure they would be thrilled to help with any project she proposed. They liked and respected Draco, but it was really nothing in comparison to how they revered his wife. He’d said something about it to Cori in passing and she’d just given him a very strange look and said, “But she is light Mr. Draco, can’t you see it?” He didn’t think there was any better explanation for what Hermione was to him, what she could be for the world. 

“You want to add rooms?” he asked, puzzled. The master wing was entirely separate from the rest of the castle, situated in it’s own turret which consisted entirely of the master suite. It seemed entirely unlike Hermione to want to make it bigger. 

“Yes,” she nodded, “more bedrooms, I was thinking three or four.”

“I don’t understand.” He frowned at her.

“For when we have children. I know it’s different with magic, that Effie could just pop them to us, but I don’t like the idea of them being so far away from us. I want to keep them close. I want them to be able to come to us when they feel sick or have a nightmare.” 

Draco took a deep breath and tried to regain control of his hormones. What she was proposing was a foreign concept to him. He would no more have gone wandering into his parents bedroom looking for comfort than he would have asked the Dark Lord for it. He’d had a very structured childhood and been mostly raised by a governess. But he’d known, even if he hadn’t considered the details, that he wanted to be a different kind of parent than that. 

“Three or four, you say?” he asked mildly.

She shrugged. “We discussed two sons to carry on each family name. And I like the idea of you with a daughter. And then after that, I guess we could see.” 

“Yes,” he said immediately.

“Yes?”

“Yes, of course, why would I possibly fight you on this?”

“I thought you might not like the idea of having them in our wing. That you might think it-” she squirmed as she seemed to search for a word,” improper. I know that you and I were raised differently.”

“We were, “ he agreed, “which is exactly why I’m going to let you take the lead on these issues.”

She beamed at him and pulled him in for a kiss. “Thank you!”

He nuzzled her neck and then began to pepper it with kisses. “I know it’s going to be awhile before you want to make these hypothetical children, but I would really like to practice right now.”

“Alright,” she giggled.

He stood up swiftly with her in his arms.

“Draco!” she shrieked, “don’t you dare mess up my system.”

He just laughed.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Hermione shifted so that she could see her mother-in-law who was seated in the backseat. She had been checking on her every few minutes since they’d started their trip, worried that she was uncomfortable. But Narcissa still seemed perfectly content, transfixed by the passing countryside. She supposed that most forms of magical transportation didn’t really allow for taking in the scenery. She turned back to look at Andromeda in the driver’s seat. She was still wearing the same smirk that had been on her face since they’d driven away from Malfoy Manor. Which was probably, in large part, due to the fact that they’d driven away from Malfoy Manor.

They had originally planned for Draco to arrange a portkey for them to travel to Paris to find her wedding attire. She had wanted a muggle gown, but once the process of buying a dress had been explained to her, Narcissa had been insistent that it was impossible. She would not hear of Hermione wearing something prete-a-porter, and there was not enough time to have one designed in the muggle world. And so Claire- a pure blooded witch who also happened to have an interest in muggle fashion, as it had lately become quite popular with French witches- had been consulted. She had told them about a magical designer in Paris who could make something that was in the style of a muggle gown, but using magical means and with all the beauty of a magical creation.

But then, a week ago, Andromeda had suddenly suggested that they drive to France and make a weekend of it. On the surface it seemed a fun and thoughtful idea, but Hermione had smelled a rat. Especially considering the look on Andromeda’s face when she’d made the suggestion. They had been having tea at her house and she’d said it like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Andromeda was a consummate Slytherin but she had a mischievous streak a mile wide; it was something her daughter, and then Teddy, had inherited in turn. She had eyed Narcissa as she spoke, almost daring her sister to object, but Narcissa had just sat up a little straighter and said that “sounded lovely.” And so Hermione hadn’t said anything.

She also hadn’t said anything when Andromeda had asked Draco to keep Teddy (Harry was off on assignment and Andromeda was not pleased with the little boy’s godfather at the moment anyway) and had simply made him a series of extensive lists and instructions to help him mind the toddler for the weekend. He’d told her that he’d already begun to feel what he could only begin to describe as a parental bond with the boy and so she hoped that meant that everything would be okay.

She had almost interceded when the older witch had gleefully presented Narcissa and then Lucius with mobile phones the morning they were due to depart for France. She'd then smugly informed her brother-in-law that while they could be reached at any point, they would be spending much of their time in the muggle world and so he should only resort to magical means of communication in the most dire of circumstances. “Draco can show you how to use it,” she had finished loftily, indicating the phone, and climbed into the car they'd hired for the weekend, leaving Hermione and Narcissa to say their farewells to their respective significant others.

She suspected Narcissa knew what Andromeda was up to and was taking her punishment for shunning her own sister for a full quarter of a century with the stoicism of a member of the Queen’s Guard. The situation was incredibly ironic on top of being terribly sad, given that the reason Andromeda had been cast out by her family was for marrying a muggleborn, and here Narcissa’s own son had done just that. As for Hermione, well, she didn’t begrudge Andromeda her little bit of revenge, but she was staying as far out of it as possible.

Still, she didn’t wish for Narcissa to have a miserable weekend. It was bad enough that her own mother was refusing to have anything to do with her wedding. She wanted to start things off on the right foot with her mother-in-law. She longed for a strong foundation for the family she planned to build with Draco.

Once they had boarded the ferry she met Narcissa on the deck and gently took her arm. She smiled at the older woman but noted the way that her eyes darted everywhere and that she automatically clung to her arm the moment Hermione offered it. She jumped slightly at every noise- but she said nothing and allowed Hermione to lead her on. Hermione allowed her that dignity. There was something heartbreaking about her discomfort with the muggle word, yet incredibly admirable about her almost Gryffindor determination to pretend like she wasn’t bothered by it.

As soon as they were seated- Andromeda had disappeared, looking for the loo and a snack- Narcissa turned to her and offered her a small but genuine smile. “I’m sorry, Hermione, but I didn’t consider that this might be difficult for you.”

Hermione couldn’t help herself, she reared back in surprise. Narcissa thought this was difficult for her? “I don’t understand,” she said truthfully.

“Well, your mother isn’t here. If anybody should rightfully be here, it should be her. I’m sure you miss her terribly.” Her face was as gentle and open as Hermione had ever seen it, and Hermione got the impression she was making a great effort to be honest.

“I do wish that she wanted to be involved. I wish more than anything that my parents would give Draco a chance, I know that they would love him just as I do. And I hate that they are missing out on that, and on these milestones. But part of me isn’t surprised, we haven’t been close in a long time.”

“I can’t imagine not being part of Draco’s life, especially at this special time. I feel that the opportunity almost slipped right through my fingers and it makes it all the more difficult to contemplate.”

She regarded the woman carefully. Narcissa was as beautiful as ever; in her muggle attire she could easily pass for 15 years younger than she knew her to be. But she looked...tired.

“Is everything okay, Narcissa? I know this must be an unusual way for you to travel,” she ventured tentatively.

That actually made Narcissa smile. “My sister has always had odd ways of amusing herself, I don’t mind. She and Bellatrix were always quarreling and I remember distinctly that she once slipped a whole jar of spiders into Bellatrix’s bed. Bellatrix hated spiders, if you can believe that,” she confided softly, “Anyway, they never did get along and ‘Meda didn’t appreciate Bella’s bossy behavior as the oldest,” she explained, her voice far away. But then her eyes snapped to meet Hermione’s and she gave her an apologetic smile, “Perhaps you’d be willing to show me how to work this device she’s given me later? It does sound quite useful.”

“I’d be happy to.”

“I am happy to have Andromeda back in my life,” she continued, her thoughts clearly drifting again, “I regret all the time that I missed with her, and that I never even met my niece. I feel like I’m only now beginning to understand the consequences of so many of my life choices.” She took a deep breath and looked Hermione straight in the eye. “You could have died that night. We did nothing to help you and if you had Draco would never have been happy. We almost lost him anyway. He survived, but he was drifting away from us. And then you came into his life and he’s my happy precious boy again. I’m not sure this is an opportunity I deserve, but I want you to know that I’m grateful for it. And if my sister thinks that I need to learn how to navigate this world, well then I will. And if it amuses her to throw me into the deep end, so to speak, well then I’ll do my best to swim.”

Hermione realized that she had absolutely nothing to say to that, and was rather thankful when Andromeda interrupted, offering them both cups of tea. The smile she gave Hermione told her that she’d overheard at least the last part of the conversation and all of a sudden Hermione had to wonder if the older witch was behaving as she was, as much in her sister’s best interest as she was for her own entertainment.

Hermione settled herself more comfortably in her seat and looked out over the Channel when she felt the ship begin to slowly pull away from the docks. She closed her eyes and sipped her tea to soothe her nerves and absently rubbed at her chest.

“Are you thinking about him?” she heard Andromeda ask, pulling her from her reverie.

“Thinking about whom?”

“Draco, of course. If you’re thinking about anybody else while you have that look on your face, that would be worrisome.”

Her eyes flew open to see both sisters gazing at her, identical expressions on their faces, looking all kinds of amused. She couldn’t help it, she laughed. “I’m sorry, but before this moment I’ve never thought the two of you looked anything alike. And for the record, I wasn’t thinking about Draco, not directly, but I certainly wasn’t thinking about anybody else.”

“Explain,” said Andromeda sitting forward with clear interest, ever the diagnostician.

She stretched and pressed on her sternum again. “He’s always with me. Even if he isn’t in my conscious thoughts, he’s here. And I suppose I was starting to feel a little anxious about putting an entire body of water between us. But it’s also reassuring, because- like I said- he’s always here.”

“There’s no shutting down the link?”

“No, at least I don’t think so, I can’t imagine trying. It would be like tearing part of myself out,” she said honestly, with little thought.

“Well that sounds bloody annoying,” snorted Andromeda. Narcissa looked at her incredulously. “What?! I was married for more than 20 years. You’ve been married just as long, Cissy. Tell me there aren’t times when the only thing on the planet you want is to get away from that man for a little while?”

The sisters stared at each other for a few moments and then they both erupted into laughter.

* * *

“Tell me about your fiance,” said Madame Sabine the next day after they’d arrived at her shop and Hermione had watched in fascination and a little bit of horror as her two assistants had shut it down so that they were the only customers.

“Excuse me?” asked Hermione, taken-aback.

“It’s part of my process, to get a feel for you and your relationship so that I can envision the kind of gown that best suits you.”

The fact that this woman faintly reminded her of Professor Trelawney was overridden by the breathtaking displays of her artistry which surrounded them, and Claire’s absolute confidence in her abilities. So, Hermione sat back and gave serious consideration to the question. It was one she’d never been asked before. Everybody just assumed that they already knew Draco.

Claire had been waiting for them in the lobby of their hotel when they arrived the evening before, and she seemed determine to become fast friends with Hermione. She’d quickly declared herself Hermione’s roommate and they’d stayed up late into the night talking. Hermione felt, possibly for the first time, what it would have been like to have a normal adolescence with giggly girlfriends. The good company, who happened to be full of stories about Draco and eager to share them, was enough to settle her so that she slept reasonably well without him, with the aid of on of his shirts which she’d nicked from his wardrobe while she was packing.

“Um, okay,” she said, tucking a curl behind her ear self-consciously.

“Close your eyes and just think of him,” Madame advised.

She took a deep breath and followed her instructions, a feeling of rightness settling into her chest. “He thinks he’s a failure,” she blurted, “but he’s not, far from it. It’s funny actually, how such an outwardly cocky person can be so fundamentally insecure. And yet he keeps soldiering on. It’s incredibly admirable. I suppose, I dunno. He’s just my favorite person. That’s the nicest thing about our relationship, how much I like being around him. And he listens to me when hardly anyone does, they just assume I’m pedantic- even my best friends. It’s refreshing. He makes me feel free.”

There was a dramatic sigh and Hermione opened her eyes to see four women smiling at her, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be embarrassed.

“Mes dieux, if he wasn’t my cousin I think I might be jealous,” Claire fanned herself and swooned dramatically, breaking the tension.

After that Madame Sabine used a fascinating combination of her wand and what looked like an enchanted set of colored pencils to design her the most perfect wedding gown. Hermione enjoyed looking nice, she was assiduous about her styling and appearance since she’d entered the professional world, but she had certainly never before been brought to tears over a dress. But at least she wasn’t the only one.

They were celebrating with champagne after dinner when she felt it. Draco’s emotions had been pretty steady over the past two days, he missed her but he was largely content, it had been nothing concerning or distracting. But then all of a sudden it was as if somebody was trying to punch a hole in her chest. She curled in on herself, automatically trying to hold herself together.

“There’s something wrong,” she gasped, “I have to go to him,” she cast an apologetic glance at Narcissa as she pressed her finger against the sapphire of her necklace, which had an emergency portkey embedded into it, and spun off back to Scotland.

She sensed immediately that he wasn’t home, so she closed her eyes and concentrated on him- just as the Black family journals had described- and easily apparated to his location. She was only mildly surprised when she arrived in the kitchen of Grimmauld place but she was too shocked by the scene in front of her to immediately react. Ginny was sobbing and her fully transformed mate was standing in front of the younger witch in a clearly protective stance, while Harry and Ron cowered in a corner in front of him. She didn’t know exactly what had happened here but it was no longer hard to imagine why the force of Draco’s emotions had called her to him from another country.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not even going to pretend I haven’t left you with a big cliffhanger, but there’s a method to my madness, I promise. And to make it up to you I promise to have the next chapter up very soon, it’s almost finished. Thank you, Weestarmeggie for beta reading! And thanks to the rest of you for just reading!


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Draco watched his father watch the car that carried his mother and Hermione away until it was out of sight, and sighed. He tried to remember when he’d last known his parents to spend even a single night apart and realized that they probably hadn’t since those weeks following the war when Lucius had been confined to a holding cell in the Ministry. And before that it was when he had been in Azkaban. Despite how he assiduously he tried to hide it, he knew those days still haunted his father.

Draco sighed again; he hadn't anticipated feeling so reluctant to leave the man alone, but they couldn’t stay here and he couldn’t imagine anything he could say to convince him to come with them. Lucius was as stubborn as they came and he'd rather stay here drowning in his dark memories than accept his son's pity.

Draco eyed the little boy running around the entrance hall at a speed that defied explanation, given his short legs. “Father, I have to get him out of here before he breaks something that can’t be fixed.”

Lucius leaned heavily on his walking stick. “What do you plan to do with the creature all weekend?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You understand he’s here to stay, right? Hermione thinks of him almost as her own. There’s a reason that Andromeda asked me to watch him this weekend. Hermione has things pretty well child-proofed at home so I’m taking him there. My lovely wife has left me sheaves of parchment including lists of things I can do to keep him entertained. I’d be insulted if I wasn’t so grateful,” he said, watching the whirling dervish of a little boy- he was starting to think Hermione’s stories about the kid’s mother weren’t the exaggerations he’d assumed them to be. He'd turned his hair blond again, it gave Draco pause. “Did I ever have this much energy?” he asked wryly.

His father looked visibly surprised by the question.

“You were energetic, but then again I do not remember you being quite this boisterous. However, I will admit that I did not spend much time with you at this age.”

Draco just nodded, unsurprised. “Truly, we need to go before Teddy does something I can’t undo,” he said as he watched the kid run at full speed into a wall and then bounce off, giggling the whole time. He walked over to collect the toddler and then paused, mid-step. “If you don’t want to stay here by yourself, you are welcome in Scotland with us.”

“I’m an adult, I will be fine in my own home, by myself,” Lucius answered tersely.

Draco let out a frustrated breath. “I’m not afraid to admit that I will miss Hermione this weekend. If you are not prepared to admit the same about Mother, that’s fine, but I’m not blind. And I want you to know that despite everything, the one thing you taught me- the best thing you ever taught me- was to love and treasure your wife. Your feelings for Mother have never been a weakness in my eyes. Good day Father.” He nodded curtly and held out his hand for Teddy who, surprisingly, immediately ran over and took it. “Have a good weekend Father!” he called out swinging the babbling little boy into his arms.

Draco didn’t expect a response and it was a good thing, because he didn’t get one.

He missed Hermione, though it didn’t feel like she was exactly missing, she was always there, it was more like he was stretched too thin. Everything was more difficult without her physical presence. However, he had a surprisingly good time with the kid. He didn’t have any experience with children and he couldn’t have anticipated how fun it would be to simply play with the little boy who found such joy in the smallest of things. It was refreshing.

But he was exhausted. By late Saturday afternoon he needed some kind of break because Teddy showed no signs of slowing down and he felt dead on his feet. So he flooed Ginny. She had offered to help him out on his weekend babysitting, but he had stubbornly told her he wouldn’t need it. He was throwing in the towel.

But he still had some pride left so he checked in the mirror to make sure he didn't look as worn out as he felt, and that the kid hadn't somehow managed to turn his hair a funny color again, and then he placed the call. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner,” he asked her when she answered the floo.

She laughed right in his face. “Merlin, Malfoy, who do you think you’re fooling? Come over here for dinner instead, you need to get out.”

So much for appearing nonchalant. “I hadn’t intended to impose,” he said stiffly, he wasn’t sure how he felt about going to Potter’s house, even if the man himself wouldn’t be there.

She rolled her eyes. “You aren't imposing, I'm here by myself while Harry’s on assignment, you know that. But if it'll make you feel better, bring that lovely elf of yours with you. One of her meals will be a fair trade for crashing my lonely evening.”

He considered that, if he refused her rather gracious invitation- she could have taunted him a lot more about his obvious cry for help, and he would prefer a change of scenery anyway- because of Potter, then he would be acting as immaturely as Potter had been lately. He sighed. Being the bigger person was hard work. “She’ll be thrilled,” he told Ginny simply, hoping she hadn't noticed his internal struggle.

A little less than two hours later and Teddy was dozing off in Ginny’s lap. He was devouring the last of the pudding and he looked up to see her regarding him apprehensively, which was completely bizarre coming from her. She was probably brashest person he’d ever met.

“I can put him upstairs for a while, I was hoping we could talk?”

“Okay,” he shrugged, equal parts intrigued and concerned; he wasn’t anxious to return to his empty bed. And he liked Ginny though he had really only known her for a few weeks, and so he realized that if she wanted to confide in him, she must have felt like her situation was dire.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching over to cover his hand with hers and giving it a squeeze.

He just nodded, still slightly uncomfortable with such open affection from anybody other than Hermione. Though Ginny had made it very clear that he'd have to get used to it. He watched her carefully carry Teddy up the stairs with a thoughtful frown on his face.

She returned quickly, smirking at him. “Congratulations Malfoy, you may have nearly killed yourself in the process but you wore the kid out, that's hard to do.”

He shrugged and hoped Hermione hadn't told her friend about the extensive instructions she felt it was necessary to leave him. But then he was quickly distracted by the way she sat heavily back into her seat her playful expression falling. She just looked at him for a moment and then she began to speak.

He didn't know what he had expected her to say, but her rushed, “I’m thinking of postponing the wedding,” was certainly not it.

He just stared at her, she flushed and looked away. That had obviously been difficult for her to say.

“Effie!” he called. She appeared immediately. “Please go fetch a bottle of the black label Ogden’s”

“Of course!” she said, popping away.

“That stuff is expensive,” Ginny protested faintly.

“You just told me you were thinking of postponing your wedding. I believe that's the sort of thing you only discuss over the finest firewhiskey. I assure you that I can afford it and that my wife would insist on nothing less.”

If possible her face fell further at this pronouncement and she looked very close to tears. Draco just sat quietly until Effie returned and then poured them each a generous amount of whiskey and waited for her to start talking again in her own time.

“Do you tell her everything?” Ginny eventually asked.

He merely cocked one eyebrow.

“Hermione,” she clarified, “she says that you don’t lie to each other.”

“We don’t, with our bond it would be too difficult, and too painful. But we respect each other’s boundaries. What I suspect you’re asking me is if I can keep your confidence, and I can. If you are about to tell me something that you don't want repeated to Hermione, then I won't.”

“That’s part of it,” she admitted. “But I’m also just wondering how that works.”

“How what works?”

“An honest relationship.”

Draco’s eyes went wide with surprise. “You don’t think that Potter is honest with you?”

“I’m not sure he’s even being honest with himself.” She sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “He and Ron are living in the past and I’m just not sure I can forget how they treated their best friend. I love him, I’m just not sure that I trust him, not with the rest of my life.”

“Why are you telling me, of all people, this?”

“Who else am I to talk to? All of my other friends know Harry too well, I would be putting them in the middle. I like my teammates and I consider us to be friends, but I don't know if I trust them with this, it would be juicy gossip if it got out.”

“But you trust me?”

“Yes, because if you said anything it would get back to Hermione and you know she'll feel guilty, like this is her fault, and you would never do that to her.”

He considered that. “I also wouldn’t say anything because I know you don't want me to, and I consider us to be friends. I'll keep your secrets, snakes are good at that, actually.”

She nodded. “I consider us to be friends as well,” she said, wiping her eyes.

“So, this is about the way he's treated Hermione?”

“It more like that the way he’s treated Hermione has opened my eyes to some things about him that I think I’ve been willfully blind to.”

Draco just nodded, because frankly even he had been surprised by the callous way the savior of the wizarding world had treated a woman who was supposed to be his best friend. Draco had never worshiped Potter the way so many people did, but he had thought he was more fair minded than he'd been behaving lately.

“He’s stubborn and closed minded,” Ginny continued, “he lets his temper get away from him too often, and while he’s generally a pretty humble person, I think he’s gotten too used to people just doing what he says,” she let out a bitter little laugh, “he’s genuinely baffled that Hermione won’t up and leave you just because he doesn’t like you. He thinks he’s the wounded party here! Like how self-centered can you be?”

“Ginny, I know I’m a selfish bloke, but that almost sounds delusional. Does he, “ he hesitated, “do you think he needs to see a mind healer?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. I don’t think he’s truly mentally ill, if that’s what you’re asking. It might help if he talked to somebody, but he’s always refused in the past. I mean, we all dealt with the war in our own ways, and sometimes I think Harry’s way of coping was just not really dealing with it at all. Like I said, he’s living in the past.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I quite understand.”

“Has Hermione ever talked to you about their time on the run?” she asked, her voice hushed.

Draco swallowed thickly and just nodded. That had perhaps been the most difficult conversation he'd ever had.

“Harry doesn’t like to talk about it, I’ve learned more from Hermione and Ron both than from him. But I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately, especially after that little speech Hermione gave at your house about not depending on her anymore and wanting her own life. I never really considered how terrible that time must have been for them, they were all each other had. For months it was just Harry and Hermione in that tent, scared and starving with no end in sight and,” she looked him straight in the eye, “can you even imagine?"

He just shook his head.

“And she never gave up or left him, or wavered in any way from what I can tell, even after my brother did. And that’s so admirable, but I think Harry’s come to expect it from her. Ron’s allowed to mess up, but he fully expects Hermione to be this unshakable force at his side for the rest of his life. And the moment she did something he didn’t like, he turned on her. After everything they’ve been through together. How can I trust he won’t do the same to me one day?”

Draco didn’t have anything to say to that, but luckily she didn’t seem to notice.

“And my brother only makes it worse!” she wailed. “You know that Lavender was Hermione’s roommate at Hogwarts?”

“I did remember that, yes,” he confirmed.

“Did you know that she was terrible to her? I spent a lot of time in Hermione’s dorm, I had a tough first year and she was really good about helping me catch up with my schoolwork, and after that she became kind of like a big sister. Anyway, it was constant. Always these little comments about her appearance, how Harry and Ron were only her friends to get her help with their assignments. Just lots of little things to undermine her confidence. She spent most of fourth year insinuating that she must be putting out for Viktor to be interested in her, because there couldn’t possibly be any other reason. I think she dated my brother solely to get under Hermione’s skin. She’s just one of those people who has to be putting people down to be happy, and at Hogwarts, Hermione was her favorite victim.”

“Well, you’ve successfully convinced me that I should add Brown to my hit list, but what does this have to do with Potter and Weasley?”

“Hermione didn’t say a word when Ron got back together with Lavender. And I knew she didn’t want to be with him anymore, but I figured she would be upset that he would be with somebody who could be so awful to her. And she just said that she only cared that he was happy, and that her relationship with Lavender shouldn’t dictate his. She rose above it, but Harry and Ron didn’t even consider doing the same thing for her. And just, what kind of people does that make them?” she sobbed.

Draco watched her, horrified. He really wasn’t built for this, but he couldn’t just sit there and watch her cry. So, very slowly, he slid down the bench and put an arm around her. She slumped against his chest and began to cry harder. It was less uncomfortable than he would have imagined, he actually felt like he might be helping.

“I don’t know what to do,” she finally whispered.

Draco considered how to respond to that but was distracted by a disturbance in the hallway, and then Potter and Weasley burst into the kitchen, wands drawn. His veela reflexes were quick enough to pull himself and Ginny both out of the path of Weasley’s stunner, but Potter’s cutting curse caught him across shoulder. And for the first time since his initial transformation, he found himself lost to his veela instincts.

He pushed Ginny behind him, out of the line of fire and transformed with a rather dramatic ripping sound, which signaled the destruction of his shirt and robes. He barely noticed, he was seeing red, certain he’d never been quite so enraged in his life. He’d been holding back for Hermione’s sake for weeks watching helplessly as she mourned friendships that no longer seemed worthy of her time or the investment she’d put into them. He’d had two different women cry on him because of these two idiots who’d just burst into the room throwing around spells around with no regard for anybody or anything. What if Teddy had been in the room? And Ginny had been emotional, unprepared, and vulnerable to attack. That cutting curse would have done far more damage to her than it had him. It was time to teach them a lesson and get a little revenge for his mate in the process.

He quickly disarmed them both with one flick of his hand while they were too shocked by his sudden transformation to even try to stop him. The wands made a satisfying clatter as they fell to the floor behind him. He knew from Hermione that Weasley’s wandless skills were non-existent and Potter’s were ruled by his emotions. They didn't stand a chance. With a little push of his own magic he shoved them up against the wall and held them there.

“You really should have paid better attention when you were told I was a veela,” he began, his voice a low menacing hiss. “Did you really think I’d be so sanguine to yet another attack from one of you? The last time was a gift Potter! Because my mate wanted to handle things her way. Well, I’ve seen how much respect you have for her, so it’s my turn,” he explained with a sneer, all the time slowly approaching until he was looming over them.

Weasley’s eyes were wide and frightened but Potter still looked defiant, so he gave him another little magical shove, he had no desire to physically lay a hand on either man. They repulsed him.

“What is the matter with the pair of you?” he asked, lettin his wings flare out dramatically. “I’m well aware of your feelings about me, but do you really care so little about your own fiancee’s safety?” he looked at Weasley, “for your sister?”

“We thought you were attacking her!” Potter defended hotly.

He snorted. “You really do live in your own world, don't you? This house is unplottable, how would I have even found it if she hadn’t invited me here?” He laughed mirthlessly. “And I, unlike you, don’t break into other people’s homes. Ginny is my friend, you were the one attacking her. Just be happy that Hermione is in France and Teddy is upstairs, if either of them had been in this room when you came in here throwing around spells like wand happy first years I might not have been able to refrain from killing you. I’m still trying to convince myself that either of your miserable lives is worth preserving.”

“What do you care about Teddy?“ asked Potter with narrowed eyes, once again proving his stupidity.

“Teddy is my mate’s godson, therefore he is mine to protect. If you had bothered to do any research into our situation, or I don’t know, talked to Hermione instead of just cutting her out of your lives, you might understand this better. But I can tell that you haven’t, and I doubt you will do either in the future. So, let me make it very clear, you so much as look at somebody I love in a way that displeases me and I’ll kill you. Magical governments are notoriously reluctant to punish veela acting in defense of their families, so don’t push me,” he said, giving them yet another little shove for emphasis.

Weasley looking satisfyingly terrified, but Potter still appeared slightly mutinous. However, this was a wizard who’d repeatedly stood up to the most powerful dark lord to come about in a millenium while he was still just a teenager, so Draco had to reluctantly admit that this was probably the best he could hope for. He’d said his piece and showed him what he was capable of both physically and magically. He was about to release them when he heard a faint pop of apparition, though he didn’t actually need to hear it to know that Hermione had appeared in the kitchen behind him, he felt her presence right away.

“I can explain,” he said.

“Whatever you’ve done, I’m sure they deserved it,” she answered immediately.

He looked over his shoulder at her, surprised by that easy answer.

She just shrugged. “I trust you.”

He let out a sigh of relief and took a couple of steps backward. She rushed into his arms and he enfolded her protectively in his wings. And then everything was right with the world again. He breathed her in, his heart and his soul settled. And then a sharp smacking sound echoed throughout the kitchen and he turned to see Potter holding his cheek. Ginny had obviously just slapped him across the face and was now repeatedly kicking her brother in the shins. He turned back to Hermione, her eyes were wide with horror and fixed on his sliced shoulder.

“You’re hurt! I thought you were hurt, that’s why I came back, but then you seemed okay! But you’re bleeding!” she said frantically, dabbing at the wound with the hem of her sleeve.

He rubbed her arms soothingly. “This is nothing, I think what you felt was my anger.”

“You’ve still been hurt Draco!” her eyes went hard. “Which one of them did this?” she hissed.

He knew he couldn’t refuse her, he would have wanted to know the same thing in her place. “Potter,” he said reluctantly.

And, just like he knew she would, she pulled out of his arms and approached the other wizard, and then without hesitation she struck him across the other cheek and leaned in threateningly. “Haven’t you given him enough scars? Hurt him again, in any way, and I’ll make Voldemort look like a fond memory.”

Draco was satisfied to see that Potter looked far more frightened of Hermione than he had all the magical power he’d just seen Draco display.

She turned to her friend. “Are you okay Gin?”

The witch nodded, but there were tears still streaming down her cheeks.

Hermione looked at Draco. “I can’t be here anymore, can we go home? Where’s Teddy?”

“He’s upstairs asleep. I’ll keep him tonight, I'm in need of somebody to snuggle with and it's certainly. It going to be Harry. And I think you two need some alone time tonight,” Ginny answered for him, she attempted to smirk suggestively, but the effect was ruined by her obvious emotion.

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked.

She nodded.

“If you need some place to get away you are always welcome to come to us, and you can call Effie if you need anything at all,” Draco interjected, making the offer he wished he’d thought to make earlier.

“Thanks,” she nodded. “I’ll probably take you up on that, I just need to clear my head before I make any decisions.

Hermione looked back and forth between them curiously but he just shook his head, this was not the time to explain. So with a quick hug for her friend, and pointedly ignoring the other wizards in the room, she stepped back into his arms and he popped them home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Satisfactory? Some of you asked about Hermione’s dress. I’ve made a Pinterest board for this story. It’s the same name, RiverWriter, over there, and the board is titled- shockingly- “His Veela Heritage.” You can find the inspiration for her dress as well as some other things from this story over there. Thanks for reading!


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

She was trembling when they apparated into their bedroom. A combination of nerves and adrenaline and something she refused to believe she was feeling at the moment. Because there was no way she was turned on after what she'd just been through.

She pulled out her wand to distract herself. No matter what he said about the degree of the injury, Draco needed healing.

He stopped her.

"No offense love, I trust you with my life, but please don't point that at me while you're shaking like that," Draco said, gently taking her wrist and pulling the hand holding her wand down and away from his chest.

He leaned down and placed his forehead against hers, pulling her in to rest against his chest. He breathed deeply and she began to match his breaths and then as she felt his emotions begin to settle, hers did as well. Except for one. And he must have sensed it too because all of a sudden he froze.

He cleared his throat. "Hermione, you know earlier how you thought that what you felt coming from me was pain, but it was actually anger. Is there any chance I'm misinterpreting what you're feeling right now?"

She closed her eyes in mortification. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"I don't see a single thing wrong with you," he responded immediately.

She huffed. "I shouldn't want you right now after what you've been through! We haven't even talked about it yet! I should be asking how you are, not lusting after you like some pathetic schoolgirl. But, there was just something incredibly sexy about the way you looked when I arrived at Grimmauld Place, and I can't stop thinking about it." He began to chuckle, she felt it more than she heard it. "Thanks a lot," she pouted.

He just continued to laugh but he held her more tightly. "I adore you," he said eventually, swooping in for a kiss and then he gently he began to brush his lips all over her face: her cheeks, her temples, the bridge of her nose. "You know," he continued conversationally, "I've just been through a trauma, and I think the best place for me to recover from that is inside of you. What do you say?"

She shuddered violently in response.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, picking her up and making his way over to the bed.

He laid her out like she was a gift to be unwrapped. She looked into his adoring eyes and reached for him. He slowly peeled her clothes off of her body and then revelled at the expression on his face as her body was revealed to him.

Making love to Draco was always wonderful. And while she didn't actually have anything to compare it to, she'd heard enough to know that he was a far more considerate and generous lover than most. Her pleasure was quite literally his own and she had certainly never left their bed feeling anything other than satisfied- except of course for the fact that she never completely stopped wanting him.

But that night was different. He seemed intent on prolonging their pleasure, their time in the place that only the two of them would ever be able to inhabit, and she followed his lead. Hermione was reminded that sex was one of the most elemental forms of magic, a beautifully perfect joining, not just of body, but when done correctly, of soul because that night she felt it.

And when Effie tentatively knocked on their door the next morning to inform them that Ginny was on the floo waiting for permission to come through, it was with the greatest reluctance that she pulled herself away from him. It felt a terrible loss.

She hurriedly dressed, piled her hair on top of her head and rushed downstairs to meet her friend. Ginny arrived looking disheveled and like she hadn't slept a wink, but Teddy was oblivious; happy and chatting away in her arms. She gave Hermione a wane smile and set the little boy on his feet. He immediately ran over to hug Hermione's legs and then scampered off to find some toys.

Hermione put her arm around Ginny companionably and the two witches followed at a more sedate pace.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked.

Ginny shrugged. "I guess. I was hoping to stay here for a few days if the offer is still open. I can't be around Harry right now after how he behaved and I just need some time to decide what to do next. I could go to the Burrow, of course, but you know how Mum is, and I just don't think I could listen to her say 'I told you so' about moving in with Harry before the wedding."

"Of course, you're always welcome here. We certainly have plenty of room," she said wryly.

"Draco's okay isn't he? I'm sure he told you but he didn't hesitate to put himself between me and those spells."

They settled into armchairs and Hermione looked away uncomfortably as she felt herself start to color. "Actually he hasn't told me what happened, we haven't exactly gotten the opportunity to talk."

There was a beat of silence and Hermione squirmed in her chair. She was not ashamed of anything she did with Draco, but the night before, especially, felt very private.

"Oh Merlin," she heard Ginny say to herself, she looked at the younger witch out of the corner of her eye; her mouth was hanging open. "Are you telling me you've been in bed this whole time. You left Grimmauld Place like twelve hours ago! I mean I know veela sex is supposed to be incredible. But wow, I can't even imagine!"

She looked to where Teddy was playing on the floor. "Ginny," she hissed, "keep your voice down, little ears are listening."

Ginny laughed. "He has no idea what we're talking about, just look at him."

He was in fact play fighting his hippogriff figurine with a dragon figurine, making battle sounds, totally absorbed in the game. And just then Hermione heard Draco approaching the room; his feet slapping against the stone floor. He was obviously intentionally alerting them to his presence, he could easily move in total silence but his with enhanced hearing he had certainly overheard their conversation and was giving her the opportunity to change the subject.

But before she could think of anything to say he entered the room wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms. As a veela he ran hot, so this was not unusual attire at home, but given Ginny's presence and especially considering what they'd just been discussing it suddenly seemed inappropriate.

"Draco, put on a shirt, Ginny doesn't want to see that!" she squealed.

"Actually, Ginny very much wants to see that. Ginny thinks you should dress like that all the time," the other witch deadpanned.

Hermione sent her friend a faux glare, slightly surprised to find she didn't feel one iota of insecurity. Her connection with Draco was too strong and too pure to be threatened by Ginny's innocent teasing.

Ginny just shrugged in response, obviously unconcerned. "Share the wealth. You get the whole meal, I'm just asking for a few crumbs. And anyway, it's not like I'm going to be getting any anytime soon, so I have to live vicariously through you."

"Ginny!" She hissed, working to keep from laughing and instead sound scandalized, "please stop talks about eating my-" she cut herself off when she realized what she was about to say and clapped her hand over her eyes. "Oh Godric help me, this discussion is over!" She peaked through her fingers to see Draco leering at her and Ginny shaking with silent laughter.

"I feel so objectified," Draco responded with a dramatic pout, bending to give her a kiss and then flopping onto the floor with Teddy. The little boy immediately scrambled onto his lap and offered him the hippogriff toy he'd been playing with. Hermione sighed at the sight.

Ginny laughed again which got her attention. She tore her eyes away from Draco and met Ginny's who was giving her a very knowing look. "Apparently all I needed to cheer me up was a morning in with the Malfoys."

Hermione just shook her head.

"We're happy to oblige," Draco called.

"Well," Ginny began again after a few moments of silence. "Since you two haven't have the opportunity to talk, should I just tell you what happened yesterday from the beginning?"

Hermione sighed, she had been dreading is conversation. "Go ahead."

Even knowing Harry and Ron's tempers as intimately as she did, she was still surprised by the extent of their reckless behavior. But she was shocked that Ginny had been considering calling off her wedding. Ginny's hopes and dreams had changed somewhat over the years, but something that had never faltered was her desire to one day be Mrs. Harry Potter. That had been a cause of concern for Hermione when they were younger because it had once been more like an obsession for Ginny than any real interest in the person Harry was. But then-amidst a war- she'd watched her friends slowly fall deeply in love and now she had a hard time picturing them apart.

She could only compare it to her own situation and the idea of willfully walking away from Draco felt akin to ripping out her own heart. Simply put: inconceivable. But she could also sympathize with Ginny. There were apparently cracks in the foundation of that relationship that she hadn't seen. They weren't her and Draco. But that didn't keep it from breaking her heart.

0000000000

It was five days before Harry called her, not on the floo but on her phone. She knew he must have been feeling pretty desperate because he avoided using his mobile at all costs- the Dursleys had all but ruined muggle technology for him. She answered out of a combination of sheer curiosity and because- if she was being really honest- ten years of always being there whenever this particular wizard needed her was a hard habit to break.

They agreed to meet but she was adamant they do it on her terms. And so, two days later Harry stepped out of the floo and into her new home for the first time. He looked around curiously. "I'm surprised Malfoy even allowed you to meet with me by yourself," he said snidely.

"If that's how this is going to go, just show yourself out," she answered coldly.

He slumped in on himself at the reprimand which made him look rather pathetic. And, frankly, he'd already looked terrible when he'd arrived. Dark bags under his eyes, hair even messier than usual, glasses askew. Hermione found herself feeling torn: protecting him, shielding him from harm was an inclination that felt almost imbedded into her very soul. But he'd hurt people she loved, hurt Draco. So, she didn't rush to comfort his as she usually would have. And, on top of that, the other part of her was- not happy- but relieved to see that he finally seemed to be realizing that there were consequences to his actions as well, even if that meant he had to suffer a bit

"If you think you can be civil then lets sit, I've arranged for us to have tea," she said turning away from him without giving him her usual hug in greeting, and sat herself primly at the table set out in front of a window. He followed her without comment.

Effie popped in then, clearly having been waiting for the opening, and presented them with a rather spectacular spread. Hermione looked away, hiding her smirk. Effie was such a Malfoy elf. She couldn't resist showing off, and she was most certainly not going to miss out on an opportunity to do so in front of a wizard she knew had done her master harm. Hermione thought it might be the closest to a vindictive streak that the compassionate creature possessed and wondered if she'd ever heard the expression, 'kill them with kindness.'

"It's so weird that you have an elf," Harry commented, but he at least had the tact to wait and make the comment until after Effie had left.

Hermione sent him a sharp look. "Effie has been with Draco since he was a baby. They adore each other and I would no more dream of dismissing her than I would disown a member of my family, because that's what she is. You know that I've changed my opinions about elves, now stop acting like a snide arsehole or you can just leave."

He took a deep breath and stirred his tea. He used far too much sugar. He had that in common with Draco.

"I talked to Fleur," he confessed.

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. "And?" she questioned.

Harry seemed to think that this was some grand confession and was visibly taken aback by her casual response. "She explained about a veela and his mate."

"You could have talked to her weeks ago, Harry."

"I was processing."

She snorted. "You processed by storming Malfoy Manor and attempting to assault the man I had just told you was the love of my life. And then you didn't speak to me for weeks."

He ignored her. "Fleur said that Malfoy must be utterly devoted to you." He looked at her, doubt painted all over his face.

"He is. I tried to tell you that, I would have told you that. Why didn't you ask me?"

"I just- really Hermione, Malfoy?"

"Yes, Draco. I chose Draco. And if you listened to Fleur at all then you know that he's my perfect match. He's a gift. He's- God, Harry, I'm so happy and I just wish I could share it with my best friend. I wish you had let me tell you all of this. I wish you had even tried to see my side! He's not the petulant little boy he was, he's grown up. Maybe it's time for you to do the same."

He set his jaw. "Ginny likes him. She actually staying here. She's left me and she's staying here!"

Hermione's heart sank as she realized the true reason for this visit. "That's what this is really about, isn't it? You've got your wand in a knot because Draco got to play the hero, jumping in front of your spell to protect her. And then she ran here. I bet it really sticks in your craw that she'd rather live with Draco right now than with you. Well I'm not going to convince her to go back to you. This is between the two of you."

"Are you telling me that Malfoy's not whispering in her ear to break up with me?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you. We talked about it and agreed that we would hate for anybody to attempt to interfere in our relationship like that. We're just giving her a place to stay and a listening ear if she wants it, but we won't tell her what we think she should do. I don't even have an opinion on that at this point. And honestly, Harry, Draco's not that petty and he has better things to do than try to sabotage your life."

"But how can she feel comfortable here, with him, after what his father did to her?" He asked bitterly.

Hermione sighed, this discussion was going nowhere. "Because Draco is not Lucius and Ginny knows that because she bothered to get to know him. She made an effort just like the rest of my friends have. Merlin, Harry, when is our society going to learn not to judge people for things they have absolutely no control over? Shouldn't you know better than just about anybody how dangerous that is? What if your grandparents and your father had judged Sirius for his dark family, or Remus for being a werewolf?"

"He tried to use the cruciatus curse on me. He let Death Eaters into the castle. Merlin, he was a Death Eater himself! You know this!"

Hey we're just going in circles, and the last of her hope died, they were not going to resolve this today. "It was war, we all made mistakes and bad choices. Were his worse than most? Maybe. I've chosen to forgive him. I suppose it's your prerogative not to."

He managed to look reasonably guilty at that pronouncement. "I just wish things could go back to the way they were."

"The way they were when Harry?"

"When it was just me, you, and Ron."

"When it was just the three of us on the run? When we were alone and terrified and absolutely desperate. When Ron left us in that state? Those were not good times Harry," she corrected. When had he put on these rose colored glasses?

"There were other times," he defended, but his eyes had started to look haunted and it took everything she had to stop from comforting him.

"That's true," she said gently, but she did not reach out to touch him as she usually would have, "There were other times, important times, I'm not trying to discount that. Nor am I trying to discount either of your roles in the war. I love you both immensely, but you are not my end all and be all. That belongs to somebody else."

"So this is it then?" he asked.

"I hope not. Like I said, I love you very much. That will never stop. But if you can't at least respect my relationship with Draco then I'm going to have to put our friendship on pause, because I refuse to face this inquisition and feel like I have to defend my life choices every time I see you."

"I don't want that."

"Then learn to be respectful of Draco. I won't have it any other way. Take all the time you need, but I think that it's time for you to go," she said dismissively, flicking her eyes toward the floo. She couldn't dwell on this any longer.

He stood up and took a couple of steps in the direction of the floo and then visibly slumped again. "What about Ron?"

"What about him?"

"Are you just never going to speak to him again?"

"If Ronald wants my forgiveness for the terrible things he said to me, then he's going to have to ask for it. But that's between me and him. I'm serious, Harry, stay out of it."

"I just want things to be okay again," he said, running his hand through his perpetually messy hair.

"Oh Harry," she said shaking her head sadly, "I'm not sure you even know what that means."


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Draco lay beside Hermione- propped up on one arm- just watching her sleep. He concentrated on her deep, even breathing to keep himself as calm as possible. Otherwise, his roiling emotions were sure to wake her.

Something was different. Something had been different for weeks and he had been pretending not to notice. But he couldn't pretend anymore, it was driving him mad.

So, the night before he'd snuck into his aunt's study- like a thief- while they were having dinner at her house and looked up the pertinent spell in one of her healer's texts. Yet he was still too much of a coward to say anything to Hermione. So he was watching her sleep.

Because if this was...the thing he thought that it was, it was his fault. She'd turned her life upside down for him more than once over the past several months, and if he was right this would be the biggest bombshell of them all. She would be more ostracized than ever. He reached for his wand on the bedside table and before he could second guess himself yet again, waved it over her abdomen, while quietly murmuring the incantation. There were three beats where nothing happened and then a soft blue light appeared over her womb.

For a moment his heart soared with joy. His hand hovered over her, longing to clasp her to him in his jubilation. She was pregnant with his child! It was the strongest desire of his soul, even if he hadn't known that such a desire existed until a few weeks ago.

But almost just as quickly as he rejoiced, he recoiled in horror. Not for himself, but for her. It was the thing he longed for most, but she wanted time...to establish her career, to let their relationship settle, to let her friends and his father learn to accept them, and to grow into her not insubstantial responsibilities as Lady Black. Merlin, it was a miracle she accepted them at all! She had no reason to respect the traditions of a society that had rejected her from the get-go.

It was disgusting, what he'd inadvertently done to her. She hadn't wanted to be pregnant. At least not for a couple of years. She'd been alienated from her friends- as many of them as had been supportive, she mourned Potter and Weasley still. This could only make this worse.

And there would be more children. This pregnancy made it clear that a contraceptive potion was nothing in the face of their connection. Their Merlin be damned, enhanced veela connection. He was certain that was the reason this had happened. His children would be forced upon her. He felt sick.

It was far too much for him to control and, much to his horror, her eyes popped open and she sat straight up in bed.

"What's wrong?" she gasped.

He cupped the back of her head gently and brought her to rest in the crook of his neck. He wanted to put off telling her, enjoy one more moment with her before she surely began to hate him, but couldn't lie to her in the face of that straightforward question.

"I had begun to suspect," he paused as he noted the weird quality to the air as he spoke, until he realized that it was simply his voice quavering. He took a deep breath. "You're pregnant, and I am so sorry."

She just blinked at him and brushed her wild hair away from her face. "Pregnant?"

He nodded.

"And how do you know this?" she asked with a frown.

Draco sucked in a breath as he realized he had yet another sin to confess. "I performed the charm while you were asleep."

She smacked his arm."Draco! What heavy-handed male dragon shite is this!"

He didn't bother to defend himself, just continued to explain. "I suspected for awhile, but I wanted to know for sure before I worried you."

"Wanted to know for sure," she deadpanned, "before you informed me what was going on in my own body!"

He closed his eyes against the force of her distress. Of course she was upset.

"Draco!" she poked him.

He turned to her and saw that her eyes were wide and panicked. He immediately moved away from her.

"I'm sorry," he said, a little desperately. What else was there for him to say? He'd only seen an expression like that on the face of a person he loved once in his life, and that had been when his father had returned from Azkaban and his mother had been so disgusted with him. There was only one thought in his mind: despite his best efforts to the contrary, he'd turned out just like his father. "You're right, of course," he murmured and he scooted out of bed away from her so that he wouldn't accidentally contaminate her further with his touch.

Why would anybody want to have anything to do with him? With Lucius' Malfoy's son? Much less have a child with him. He transformed almost without thought- he felt things more naturally in his veela form- and began pacing. He looked at Hermione across the room, so small in their bed with his child inside of her. Hair sleep ruffled, she was naked and vulnerable and he couldn't help but think that she looked very young. Too young to have survived the things he knew that she had. He'd hurt her before, many times, but at least he hadn't loved her then. Now that she was the most important thing to him he still hadn't been able to keep from doing it again. He felt bile begin to rise in his throat. Why hadn't he stayed away from her when he had the chance? He'd known better, but he'd acted selfishly, just as he always did.

Well that was at an end now.

"You should go, you're better off without me," he told her.

She hugged the sheet tightly to her chest as she recoiled from him. "What?"

"Just, go. Go to Andromeda. You'll be safe with her, she'll make sure you're taken care of."

She frowned and raised up on her knees, crawling in his direction. "Draco what are you talking about?"

He moved as far from her as he could get and still be in the room. "I'm terrible for you, can't you see what I've done? You'll spend the rest of your life hearing about how your just my pet mudblood. Or how I'm using you for political purposes. And I don't know anything about being a father, just look at the example I had! I would just be a burden to you both. Just. Go." He gestured wildly to the door; heart actually aches as he did so, he hadn't thought that was possible- heartbroken was only supposed to be an expression.

He was busy pacing when he suddenly felt a small hand on his back, beneath the juncture of his wings. He nearly jumped out of his skin. It had been years since anybody had been able to get that close to him without his knowledge. In this form it should have been impossible. He spun around, automatically tucking his wings against him to keep from hitting her, because who could it be except Hermione?

"Draco, listen to me-"

He ignored her and scooped her up as gently as possible and strode over to the bed. She struggled in his arms and repeatedly called his name but he just placed her back on top of it, and turned away again immediately. If he held her or even looked at her too long he knew he would lose his resolve. "Hermione, I know you don't take orders. So, see reason. I'm no good to you. Get out of here!"

He continued to pace and became a bit mesmerized watching his own feet move along the floor in measured steps. He heard his name being called, once, perhaps several times, but he ignored it. He was busy trying to figure out a way to minimize the damage he had caused.

And when he finally looked up again she was gone, the bed was empty and her dressing gown was missing from the armchair where it had been drapped. He froze. She'd actually left. He just stood there staring at the place she'd been sitting and her absence- just when he thought he couldn't feel any lower- made things worse.

He walked over and fell face first onto the bed. He gathered her pillow to his chest and breathed in her scent. What would he do when it was gone too?

And that's when he realized that- on top of everything else- he'd driven her out of her home. She loved it here, she belonged here. And now that she was carrying a child of House Black the family magic would welcome her, even without him. And that decided him.

He would just lay here a little longer, and then he would leave; send her an owl and let her know the glen was hers. He would leave the country, maybe he would just take flight and see where he ended up. It would be too tempting to remain within apparating distance from her.

He laid there for what felt like forever, blocking everything out except for the scent of her. He regulated his breathing to calm himself. He knew that he would regret it later- it was the smell of her on every inhale that was keeping him rational, but he also knew he would have to get over that. And, following his adrenaline crash he fell back to sleep.

He dreamed of her, laying in a bed cursing his name. She was in terrible agony. Writhing and screaming for it to end. The only difference between now and that night during the war on the drawing room floor of his ancestral home was that she was swollen with their child, he was the source of her pain and still there was nothing he could do to help. He felt like he was going to come apart.

And then another sound caught his attention. Like a heartbeat, though it was too fast and too loud, but there was something beautiful about it, and it called to him. His eyes flew open. This sound was not a thing of nightmares, it was somewhere in the castle.

He pushed himself up off the bed and followed it easily to its source, which was just in the next room, the master suite's sitting room. He stopped in his tracks when he saw what- or rather who- was inside. His aunt and his little cousin who was fast asleep curled into Hermione's side.

Hermione.

Hermione who was smiling softly, eyes locked on him, one hand holding Teddy securely against her, the other resting on her abdomen over which his aunt was waving her wand. And suddenly he knew exactly what that sound was and why it had called to him. It was a heartbeat after all.

His child. Their child. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he fought to withstand the force of what felt like an anvil slamming against his chest and still remain upright. What in Merlin's name had he almost done?

"Are you through it now?" she asked quietly.

"What?" he said dumbly, too mesmerized by that beautiful sound to process her words properly.

"Whatever just happened in there," she indicated towards their bedroom, "have you gotten past it? Because we need you." She gestured to her belly.

"I-what?" he fumbled, at a loss for words.

"You told me to go to Andromeda. I thought she was more helpful as a healer than as some kind of safe place to get away from you. Which is ridiculous, by the way, why would I want to get away from you?"

He blinked at her, dumbfounded, and then he swallowed. "I'm dangerous."

"Not to me. Not to us." She waved him forward, he obeyed automatically, falling to the floor at her side and placing his hand over hers on her stomach.

"Would the two of you like to know the sex?" asked Andromeda, who was hovering over them, yet her presence didn't feel intrusive- Draco had almost forgotten she was there.

He glanced at Hermione. "I would," he confessed, frowning at her belly, "I'd like to know who's in there.

She made a little face. "You can do that? I can't be more than a few weeks along."

"Gender is decided at conception, Hermione. We just have the means of knowing what it is long before a muggle test or ultrasound could," Andromeda answered.

She squeezed his hand. "Okay then," she agreed, with a secret smile.

Andromeda began to move her wand in a different pattern and the sound of the heartbeat disappeared. He decided immediately to make sure he learned the spell so that he could hear it whenever he wanted. This pregnancy was too young for even his veela senses to be able to hear it on his own.

"It's a girl," she said quietly.

Draco looked around, he didn't see anything that showed how she'd come to that conclusion, but he trusted her.

"A girl," he marveled. A girl was good, a little Hermione who wouldn't remind him of himself as a child.

"I think it's time for me to leave the two of you alone," Andromeda said, gathering Teddy in her arms and leaving a kiss on Hermione's forehead, "congratulations," she murmured, and then-to his shock- she left a similarly loving kiss on his brow. "And to you too, keep it together, they deserve somebody who will be there for them,"she finished sternly.

"And you think I'm that person?" He was desperate for affirmation and not afraid to show it. Andromeda loved Hermione a great deal, if she thought he was up to the job of being the father to her child then maybe he could begin to believe it too.

"Of course you are. Hermione is right, they need you. You just need to get out of your head." She smiled then, adjusting her sleeping grandson in her arms- he was shocked that the energetic little boy had slept through all of this. "I love you Draco. I think that you do not hear that enough. Be good to them, and I'm here for you, whatever you need."

Then she swept out of the room without any further comment.

Still on the floor at her side Draco glanced at Hermione.

"Hi," she whispered, unclasping their hands and cupping his jaw.

"I'm an idiot."

She nodded but she looked slightly amused. "Big, stupid idiot," she agreed.

"I got you pregnant against your will," he continued.

She let out a barking laugh that she didn't even try to supress. "Well that's not what I was referring to. And I remember being an extremely willing participant in every instance we could have created this baby anyway."

"I just mean it's our connection as a veela and mate that's overruled the contraceptive potion, it has to be."

"I'm not saying you're wrong, that makes sense. I'm just not blaming you unless you're telling me that you knew this would happen?"

"Of course not!"

"Then this happened to you as much as it happened to me. I've read the journals too, Draco. There's no mention of contraception because they were written in a different time when couples, at least couples with the resources we have at our disposal, would never have tried to prevent a pregnancy. You haven't been trying to trick me, I would have felt it," she rubbed her hand against her sternum to demonstrate her meaning.

"What do you need?" he asked, his hand hovering over her body, aching to be of some help. He'd ruined what should have been a joyful occasion and he wanted to make up for that.

"Just for you to be here." She turned onto her side and wrapped her body around his shoulders. "Are you unhappy about this?"

He gritted his teeth but told her the truth. "No, but I am terrified." He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. "Aren't you unhappy? Aren't you angry? Don't you realize what this means?"

She pulled on him until he raised up on his knees and then neatly threw one leg over her body and catapulted himself until he was situated behind her, spooning her. She turned in his arms.

"Maybe," she said, almost shyly, running her finger up and down his chest in a manner he realized was not designed to entice but was just nervous energy. "I'd just like to be happy for a few minutes, enjoy this for awhile before we have a big serious discussion about what it means."

He was suitably chastised. "I love you and I'm overwhelmed, but I am happy," he made sure to clarify.

She smiled at him. They laid there for a long time wrapped around each other and he allowed himself to bask in the happiness he felt coming from her.

"I've decided to trust our connection," she admitted eventually.

"I'm sorry?"

She pulled back slightly so that he could fully see her expression and smirked. "While you were having your little nervous breakdown. I realized that this is not perfect timing, I wouldn't have decided to have a baby right now. It's going to complicate so many things. But when I saw you unraveling I didn't think of any of that, I just wanted to make things better for you. Because when it came down to it, I was thrilled, and I just wanted for you to feel the same way.

He gave her an apologetic squeeze.

"I also came to the same conclusion that you did," she continued, "which is that the potion didn't work because of our strong connection." She sighed. "Which is frightening until you consider all the good that's come from it."

"You're by far the best thing that has ever happened to me," he chimed in.

"I agree. So, I'm trusting that it won't force more on us than we are capable of handling. And that includes too many children."

Draco considered that. "That's very level-headed."

"Thank you," she said primly.

"And completely unlike you."

She froze in his arms and then propped herself up on one arm to glare down at him. He just continued to stare at her, refusing to back down.

"Fine," she conceded, "my plan B involves muggle contraceptives."

He burst out laughing. He could do this, they would figure it out. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Weestarmeggie for reading this over! I've been anticipating this little reveal since I first started writing this story so I hope you enjoyed it! I also wanted to let you all know that this fic is winding down. I'm planning on two to three more chapters and an epilogue, depending on how wordy and sentimental I get. I just wanted to let you know what to expect and thank you all for supporting and loving this story!


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Andromeda walked up behind Hermione and gently rested her hands on the younger witch's shoulders as they both regarded her reflection in the mirror.

"Cissy, could you give us a moment?"Andromeda asked the blonde witch who was busying herself straightening Hermione's gown to perfection.

"Of course!" She gave the train one final tug and then with an affectionate squeeze of Hermione's upper arm and a smile, she retreated from the room.

As soon as the door clicked closed Andromeda reached around and took Hermione's hands from where they had been hovering around her abdomen and brought them to her sides. "Nobody is going to be able to tell just by looking at you Hermione, but if you keep doing that everyone will know. Narcissa would surely have figured it out by now if she wasn't so preoccupied making sure everything is perfect."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Are you sure? Draco swears there's a bump."

"Draco is besotted with the idea of this pregnancy, not to mention that he has superhuman senses, but in this case I think he is seeing what he wants to see- proof of his child growing inside of you. But to the rest of us you look no different."

Hermione nodded as she tried to convince herself of the truth of Andromeda's words.

"Now, how are you feeling? I'm sorry your mother isn't here, it should be her with you in this moment, but it is my honor to be the one who is."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm happy you're here, Andromeda. I don't know what I would do without you."

She leaned down and gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek and then smiled at their reflection in the mirror.

"Your mum wasn't at your wedding either," Hermione said softly.

Andromeda chuckled, it was only slightly tinged with bitterness. "That was more of a blessing than anything else."

"It still must have hurt," Hermione whispered.

"It did," she acknowledged with a slight inclination of her head. "It pales in comparison to how much it would have hurt when I was just a girl, and it means almost nothing to me now. But I don't think we ever truly outgrow wanting our parents approval. However, in the end, it was for the best that neither of my parents were present. My choices were beyond their understanding."

Hermione took a deep breath and centered herself. She wouldn't get upset and ruin this day- or worse- make herself all splotchy. "This might make me a terrible person but I feel the same way. I mean, I'd love to have my parents at my wedding but not like this. I'd just be worried about them the whole time. I do hope they come around eventually, maybe with the baby," she shrugged, "but that's just as likely to make things worse. They already think I'm too young to get married."

"I'm sure they had very different plans for your life. And from their perspective the magical world has not been kind to you."

"It's my choice to stay here," she said stubbornly, "I can't just stop being a witch." It was an argument she'd gone around with her parents a million times, it had never budged them. They could not ignore or forget the way she had spelled them during the war without their permission; especially in the face of her decision to marry a man whom she'd continually written to them as being a bully and a bigot. Any discussion of his heritage as a veela was a non starter.

"Of course it is, but it's a choice they apparently need time to get used to," Andromeda said, managing to sound both soothing and forthright.

"Thank you." She reached up to squeeze Andromeda's hands which were once again resting on her shoulders.

Effie popped in and bowed lowly. "My Lady, Mr. Harry Potter is outside with Little Master Teddy, may I show them in?"

Hermione glanced at Andromeda in surprise. It wasn't too much of a shock that Harry had decided to come today, he was scrambling to get back into Ginny's good graces. While she hadn't broken up with him, she had moved into her own flat, and plans for their wedding were on hold. Accompanying her to their wedding would demonstrate that he was at least attempting to address her grievances. But she hadn't expected him to seek her out.

Andromeda just gave a slight shrug. "I don't know what he's doing here, and you certainly shouldn't feel like you have to see him. You don't owe him anything. But if he has Teddy with him he's at least seen Draco and you know that if he didn't think Harry was going to behave himself, he'd have had him thrown out, not allowed him to accompany Teddy to see you."

That was a good point. Hermione huffed out a breath and resisted the urge to tell Effie she didn't have to be so formal. It was a struggle to get her to call her simply "Mistress" on a regular day, and this was not a regular day. It was only Draco's patient explantation of how much it would injure Effie should she object- because serving the Lady Black on her wedding day was apparently considered to be the highest honor of her line- that stopped her from objecting.

"Of course, Effie," she responded simply.

Effie scurried over to the door, opened it and Harry strode in carrying Teddy. The little boy's raven locks were sticking out in all different directions and no matter how many times she'd seen him imitate Harry's unruly head of hair, it never failed to make her laugh. When he caught sight of her Teddy's eyes went wide and one of his little hands went to his mouth in a dramatic fashion.

"NiNi, you look like a fairy!"

She choked back tears. Perhaps the pregnancy hormones were starting to affect her. Or maybe it was just her godson's innocent praise. He said what he thought and she knew for a fact that he didn't think there was anything as beautiful or fascinating as a fairy.

But this little outburst was exactly why they'd decided to let him see her before the ceremony. They hoped it would keep him from wanting to call out to her or even attempt to run to her and disrupt the binding.

She gave Harry a tight smile and held her arms out towards the little boy. "Hello Teddy Bear, would you like to come see me? I have something for you."

Andromeda handed her a miniature boutonniere and Harry put Teddy down. He approached her carefully, with something that looked like awe on his face, his mouth open, eyes wide and excited. She squatted and held one arm out and brought him into a hug, he stroked her arm and then carefully touched her hair which she was wearing down, a wreath of flowers woven into it. Frankly, his gentle behavior was more than she had expected, he usually didn't hesitate to be rather rough and tumble with her. Maybe he really did understand that this occasion was special. She pulled back, smiling at him affectionately, and took out her wand to affix the boutonniere to his robes.

"Now this tells everybody that you're special," she explained.

Teddy nodded in agreement, like that was a foregone conclusion.

Hermione smiled to herself, glancing briefly at Harry and Andromeda who appeared to be equally amused. "I need you to stay with Harry and be a good boy. Draco and I have something to do and it's important that you're quiet, okay?"

He nodded again.

"And after that, you and I are going to dance and eat cake. How does that sound?"

"That sounds fun. I can do that. I'm a big boy." He nodded his head forcefully as he spoke.

"I know you are." She kissed his forehead and carefully stood up and turned her attention to Harry.

"Hello," she said quietly.

He smiled at her but his eyes were sad. "You look really beautiful "Mione."

"Thank you. I have to say, I'm a little surprised to see you here."

He hesitated. "I thought about not coming. But then I realized I was actually thinking of skipping my best friend's wedding." He shook his head and wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Well I'm happy you're here."

"Ron's coming too."

She nodded. "I know, Ginny told me that she threatened him within an inch of his life to assure he'd behave. She also said that she thinks the real reason he's coming is because Lavender would kill him if he made her miss an opportunity to see Malfoy Manor."

Harry nodded, swallowing thickly. "I'm sure that's part of it. But he feels the same way I do, we both miss you."

She looked at him doubtfully and he ran his hand through his hair in a sure sign of discomfort.

"It's been so weird since you quit the Ministry," he continued, "I'm used to seeing you everyday. I'm used to you being there when I need something. But that made me realize that maybe I haven't been a good friend to you."

She just tilted her head, urging him to explain further.

"My workload feels like it's doubled since you've been gone and now I realize I was leaning on you to help me with the tedious stuff even though it wasn't your job. We didn't even work in the same department. I don't know, I just expected you to always be there and when you weren't it occurred to me that I'd been taking you for granted."

She wondered how much of this he had actually concluded on his own and how much he was parroting back things others had told him. Either way, it was still a major change in attitude since the last time they'd talked.

She sighed. "Harry, I'm not sure this is the time."

"No you're right. I just wanted you to know, before the ceremony, that even though you don't need my permission, or even my approval to be with Malfoy that I'm sorry I didn't respect your wishes. And I'm going to be better."

"This doesn't fix everything. You hurt me deeply and frankly I don't trust you right now."

He nodded. "I know."

Something suddenly occurred to her. "Did Draco put you up to this?"

His eyes flew to her's "You think Malfoy is capable of making me do something I don't want to do?"

"No, but I think he's plenty manipulative enough to guilt you into coming and saying this to me now. Because I know you must have at least seen him, Teddy was spending the morning with him."

Harry scratched at the back of his neck and looked at her sheepishly. "He's very protective of you."

Hermione let that sink in. "And you're used to being my protector," she realized.

"I- yeah. I've been a real idiot."

"It's almost time," Andromeda called from across the room where she'd retreated with Teddy so that they could speak in relative privacy.

"I should go then, did I tell you that you look beautiful?" He asked with a little grin.

"Yes, you mentioned it, but I don't mind hearing it again."

He took a tentative step forward and she opened her arms. It was slightly awkward but it was also a relief and she could feel genuine affection in the way he gently cradled her against him. After a few moments he carefully stepped away to avoid trampling her gown, gave her a shy smile, went to collect Teddy and left the room.

"Are you ready?" Andromeda asked as soon as the door clicked shut.

Hermione just shrugged. "I'm already married anyway."

But if Hermione began to doubt her reasons for having such a public bonding as she walked down the aisle and felt hundreds of pairs of eyes scrutinizing her, they evaporated the moment she joined Draco in the ritual circle and took in the expression on his face.

She loved the way he looked at her on a daily basis. Like she was incredible and he couldn't quite believe she was there with him. She hoped he never stopped. But this was even more. The open adoration on his face- in front of hundreds of spectators- was enough to almost bowl her over.

Kingsley began the ceremony but she paid him little attention. She just held Draco's gaze and stayed in the moment with him; going through the motions for everybody else. When it was over Draco kissed her like he hadn't seen her in years. It had been less than twelve hours. She explained that it was another muggle tradition that the groom couldn't see the bride on the day of the wedding and she'd originally planned that they would spend the night apart, but he'd put his foot down. So she'd spent the night in their bed and then got up early this morning and snuck over to the Manor, leaving him with a kiss on the cheek while he gamely pretended to still be sleeping.

He pulled her through the crowd, not stopping to speak to or even acknowledge any of their guests. The ceremony had taken place in the gardens, the reception was inside but once they were in the Manor he went in the opposite direction of the ballroom where it was to be held and only stopped once they were inside the solarium, a room where she often took tea with Narcissa and that she was very fond of. He pulled out his wand and hastily erected some privacy wards and then pulled her into another kiss.

"You look like some kind of goddess, love," he murmured between kisses. "A fertility goddess, perhaps." He moved one hand from her waist to place it on her abdomen, she could actually feel him smirking. Once he'd gotten over the shock of her pregnancy he'd become almost unbearably smug about it. And he was so protective of her that she knew he was going to be a nervous wreck all night until they were tucked safely back home.

When she was thoroughly snogged- and looked it, she was sure- he finally pulled away and smiled down at her. "I have the most delicious wife, but why do you smell like my mother?"

She barked out a surprised laugh. "I didn't realize that I did. I spent a significant amount of time with her today."

He was already shaking his head before she finished talking. "That's never made any difference before."

She considered that. "She ordered me some beauty products from France to pamper me with today. Maybe they're similar to what she uses?"

"Probably, she's very particular. But you're giving those right back. This is just weird."

He dove back down to her jawline and began to nip and suck at the skin there. She moaned. And then he licked down her neck. She squealed and automatically started trying to push him away.

"What are you doing!"

"If you're not going to smell like you then you should at least smell like me."

"Stop it you weirdo!" She squirmed against him but he just held her tight and chuckled against her skin. After a moment he relented and started kissing her softly again. She relaxed against him.

"What did you say to Harry?"

"Do you really want to talk about Potter right now?" He asked her between kisses.

"I'm just curious. He's usually so hard headed. I thought it would take him ages to budge even a little."

He pulled back to look at her smirking and shrugged in a falsely casual manner. "I may have had a secret weapon."

She blinked at him but his face was giving nothing away. He cocked one brow challengingly and it hit her.

"You and Ginny ambushed and browbeat him into submission didn't you?"

His face broke into a wicked grin. "A wedding present for my lovely bride."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta love to Weestarmeggie, thank you lady! Inspiration for the wedding decor is on Pinterest, in case you're curious what I imagined. This is the penultimate chapter. I hope to have the final one out very soon. Thanks for reading!


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Hermione was vibrating with nerves and practically hurling her feelings at him through their bond. He'd tried to soothe her with physical contact but it hadn't helped; she wouldn't sit still long enough. She insisted on flitting around trying to be an ideal hostess even though this was only a small family gathering.

It was Christmas morning and they were planning to tell his parents and Teddy about the baby. Andromeda assured them that Hermione was healthy and that the pregnancy was progressing well. Hermione was concerned that she was developing symptoms that would make her condition obvious and she wanted to tell his parents before they figured it out for themselves. Considering that his damnable wife insisted that they have regular dinners with the older couple, that would probably happen rather quickly given her recent aversion to anything that smelled even remotely pungent combined with his mother's love for French cheese.

His parents, as well as Andromeda and Teddy, had spent the night with them so that they could spend Christmas morning together. Hermione thought it all very festive, and had eagerly invited them into their home. Draco understood what she was trying to do. But he resented the delay of his honeymoon and he was very close to kicking them all out. Except, he was absolutely sure that his wife would kill him and he'd decided it would be better if he were around for their little girl after all. If only to assure that somebody made sure she was allowed on a broomstick.

Their little Carina.

He'd decided that was what he wanted to be her name almost from the moment Andromeda told them they were having a girl. It was perfect. He had been fully prepared to make his case, if necessary. 'She's both stars in the sky and our beloved one, I can think of nothing better.' He told Hermione when he'd proposed the name. But it turned out he didn't need to have an argument ready. She'd agreed immediately. 'It's beautiful, perfect really Draco,' she'd said, with the softest, most elated smile on her face.

She'd been the one to come up with the plan to tell his parents in a rather roundabout way that would also hopefully gently break the news to Teddy. When she'd explained her idea to him he'd laughed. Witnessing her Slytherin side was such a turn on.

And that brought them to this moment. They were surrounded by wrapping paper and the area under the tree was empty, he knew it was time. He glanced at Hermione who- in her fluttering about- had landed across the room from him in an armchair, her leg bouncing nervously. When he caught her eye she sat up straight, took a deep breath, and her emotions finally settled. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"I think there's one more gift," she said while moving swiftly out of the room. She returned in mere moments with the cheerfully wrapped package they'd hidden apart from the other presents for this very purpose. She plopped herself down next to her godson, who was playing on the floor with his new toys, and handed him the gift.

His face lit up and he tore into it to reveal a small stuffed dragon in a deep purple color. Draco, knowing his part, levitated the much larger Teddy sized dragon they'd gifted him earlier that morning so that it was in front of Hermione and Teddy. And then he made his way over and sank down onto the floor a few feet behind the pair, to symbolically have Hermione's back without interfering.

Teddy Lupin, despite the odds, or what he'd imagined at the beginning of his relationship with Hermione, had become important to him. And not just because he was his mate's godson, but he'd wormed his own way into Draco's heart. He told anybody who would listen that he had bribed the kid to like him, but something told him that Teddy had made his own decision to trust him, and he respected that choice. He hoped Hermione's plan would work and that their news wouldn't hurt the kid too badly.

"This is a little girl dragon," Hermione began gently, reaching over to stroke the toy, but making no attempt to take it from the boy. "She goes with the mummy dragon. And the mummy dragon has to take care of her hatchling, that's very important. But I know they both love you very much. You'll help her take care of her baby, won't you?"

Teddy smiled and walked the miniature dragon over to the larger one.

"What do you say?" Andromeda prompted him.

"Thank you NiNi," he responded automatically, eyes fixed on the two stuffed animals.

"Well, actually, she didn't come from me and Draco," Hermione corrected, "there's a tag around her neck, lets see what it says."

He stopped and looked at his godmother curiously and then held out the smaller dragon to her so that she could read the tag.

"Dear Cousin Teddy," she began, and he heard his mother gasp, "I'm so excited to meet you and even though it will be a few months before I can, I couldn't wait to send you a gift. In the meantime, please help this mummy dragon take care of her baby so that you can help my mummy and daddy take care of me when I arrive. Love, Baby Carina Louise."

It was his aunt's turn to gasp. She knew about the baby, of course, but not what they'd named her, or that her middle name was to be Andromeda's own in her honor. Teddy considered this with a little frown on his face, but it was clear that it hadn't really sunk in. Hermione reached out an arm for him.

"Will you come here, love?" He crawled the few feet between them and she pulled him into her lap and took one of his hands and placed it on her belly. "There's a baby in here. Her name is Carina and she's your cousin, which is a very special thing, you're the only one she will ever have.." At this point he heard his mother sob and he chanced a look at her. She had one trembling hand covering her mouth and there were tears flowing freely down her cheeks. His father's face was expressionless, but at least he didn't appear ready to storm out or fly into a rage- which Draco believed had been a real possibility.

"Baby," Teddy repeated, half question, half statement.

"That's right, she's very little right now and she's going to be in here for awhile growing big and strong. But I know she can hardly wait because you're out here!"

"NiNi is having a baby?" He asked. His face was all squinched, and he looked both angry and like he might burst into tears at any moment.

Draco sent a quick prayer out to every deity he'd ever heard of that there would be no tears, because if there were he'd spend the rest of the day, and quite possibly the next few weeks consoling his wife. He understood her well enough to know that the mess with Potter and Weasley would be a picnic compared to hurting this little boy. And dealing with emotional trauma was not what he had in mind for the honeymoon on a private beach they'd already postponed for four days in order to be home for Christmas. He had been counting on two weeks of sex and celebration.

"I am. But Teddy, you know that nothing could make me love you less. You will always be my Teddy Bear and when she gets here there will just be more love to go around. And I know that you will just be the best at loving her. You'll be like her big brother." Apparently this was exactly the right thing to say because he visibly perked up.

"Big brother?"

Hermione had explained to Draco that this was a title that several of Teddy's little friends had gotten recently and the little boy had apparently been rather envious of the honor once it had been explained to him.

"Yes, you know how special and important that is don't you? You'll look out for her and take care of her?" He nodded vigorously. "And while she's growing in NiNi's tummy you can practice with baby dragon. What should we call her?" She wiggled the toy playfully in Teddy's face and he was immediately diverted as he looked at it thoughtfully.

"Snitch."

"Snitch?" Hermione repeated, obviously surprised, and then turned her head to shoot him a glare.

Right. Like he was the only seeker in the kid's life filling his head with quidditch information.

"She's leeetle," he explained, holding his thumb and forefinger close together to demonstrate his meaning, "and she's gots wings."

It was remarkably sound reasoning for a toddler.

"Okay then," she agreed, sounding resigned.

"It's perfect," he interrupted, "that was very smart, Teddy."

The boy beamed and Hermione had the good grace to look sheepish. His mother decided that was an appropriate place to interrupt. He was thoroughly distracted by his wife's conversation because he didn't even notice her approaching until right before she grabbed him, hauled him to his feet and then nearly squeezed the life out of him. He hadn't known she had it in her.

"Oh my sweet boy, this is the most wonderful Christmas present!" She wept openly into his neck, cradling the back of his head with one hand.

They stood there for a long time, the room silent except when Teddy asked Hermione- in what Draco was sure was meant to be a whisper- "Is Aunt Cissy sad?" Eventually she pulled away, taking his hand and leading him over to Hermione to whom she offered her free hand. Hermione took it and stood up with Teddy- who was watching with wide eyes- on her hip. She embraced the younger woman, never letting him go as she did so. He noted with relief that she was considerably more gentle with his pregnant wife.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said once his mother had released her, "it looks like there might be something of a scandal after all. There will only be something like seven months between our wedding and her birth." She bit her lip and looked at the older witch apprehensively.

His mother threw back her head and laughed, and he was certain he'd never seen her so joyful or so carefree. It made her look young.

"Oh my dear girl. I couldn't possibly care less."

Draco felt his eyes go wide in surprise. He knew she'd be excited to have a grandchild but he'd fully expected her to launch a full scale campaign to mitigate the possible damage to their reputation a baby conceived out of wedlock would cause in the conservative pureblood circles in which she socialized.

"A girl!" She marveled, releasing their hands to bring hers up to her wet and flushed cheeks. "Lucius, isn't this just the most wonderful news! Oh, a girl," she trailed off, her voice hushed with awe.

Draco didn't know the details but he had gathered over the years that his mother, at least, had wanted more children but had been unable to have them. But he was just now realizing how very much she'd apparently desired a daughter. He'd been pleased it was a girl, wanting to adapt to fatherhood before he took on the challenge of a son, given his own tumultuous relationship with his father. He was also happy that his father would have more time to get used to the idea of a half-blood heir. But he hadn't considered that anybody would be so thrilled.

"It is...surprising," his father said from behind him, and then he felt a hand on his shoulder. His grip was firm and supportive and Draco glanced back at him in surprise. But Lucius was looking not at him, but at his mother, and his eyes looked almost...shiny. And again, Draco was reminded that his father might actually love his mother as much as he loved Hermione. "It is a lovely Christmas surprise," he added, and then he did look at Draco and gave him a nod. "My congratulations to you both." He stepped forward and gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek.

Finally, Andromeda made her way over. It was clear she had been giving them a moment. She took Hermione into her arms and didn't let go until Teddy started squirming to get down.

"You don't mind, do you? We should have asked, but we wanted to surprise you. But we can change it if you want to save the name for Teddy to use," Hermione explained shyly.

"Of course I don't mind, I'm honored. And I know Nymphadora would feel the same way," Andromeda responded with one hand covering her heart, her eyes wet. Louise had also been her daughter's middle name, and it was even more special to Hermione because of that.

Hermione chuckled, but it was melancholy. "I think she would mainly be concerned with the fact that you keep calling her Nymphadora," she teased.

Andromeda made a little tutting sound and then turned to him. "Thank you," she said as she enveloped him in a firm hug, "and you have my congratulations again."

"It's our honor, Aunt. And thank you for being there for Hermione," he murmured to her, for her ears only.

"Oh!" His mother exclaimed, interrupting their moment. "You already knew, of course you did!" She told her sister.

"I needed a healer!" Hermione blurted, looking at his mother guiltily, "she's the only one we told. We just wanted to make sure everything looked good and get through the wedding before we told you!"

His mother shook her head. "I understand, I'm not upset."

He believed her but he decided to smooth this over further. He closed the distance between them, hooking one arm around Hermione's waist and jostling her playfully. "My wife is endeavoring to spare me embarrassment by not telling you that when we realized she was pregnant I… panicked a bit and she had to fetch Aunt so that she could let me listen to the baby's heartbeat and calm me down."

If possible his mother's eyes went even softer.

His father chuckled. "Finding out you're going to be a father is frightening, I remember it well." He cleared his throat. "But I think you'll find, Draco, that being a father is the most rewarding thing you'll ever do."

Draco inhaled sharply and could only stare at his father. Hermione leaned into his body as his father said that, and turned her face to leave a surreptitious kiss on his shoulder. She had a good idea of the effect those words would have on him.

His mother beamed and craned her neck leaving a lingering kiss on his father's lips. Draco was certain that was something he'd only seen happen a handful of times in his whole life, and he decided it was time to stop trying to predict what to expect from them because he obviously didn't have any real idea.

There was a long, but not uncomfortable silence and then Effie popped in to tell the family that Christmas dinner was served. They gathered around the table and had the first of many holiday meals together, all quietly joyful that there would be another person at the table next year, and hopefully many more in the years to come.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I scribbled those words in my writing journal weeks ago when I finally figured out how I wanted this story to end, and I can't believe it's come. It's bittersweet. There will be an epilogue, possibly more than one if I get sentimental but this is it for the story proper. I wanted to thank you all for coming on this journey with me, all who favorited or followed this, those who left me such wonderful reviews, and those who just quietly read. I hope this has brought a little joy into your life. Special thanks to Weestarmeggie for beta reading, but especially for graciously spending hours talking me through things and just generally cheerleading. I love you, lady!
> 
> I wanted to let you know that I've posted something new. It's called 'A Second Look' and I've very excited about it. There are no veela but there are babies and fluff. I'd love for you to check it out though I've already seen many of you over there :) As always, thanks for reading.


	30. Epilogue

Epilogue

Hermione relaxed against Draco, careful not to disturb their youngest daughter who was asleep on his chest. They were stretched out on a blanket watching their older children play in the shallows of the river along with their cousin Teddy and a group of elflings. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, wrapping an arm around her and kissing the top of her head, an action he quickly repeated on the white-blonde curls of the toddler sleeping peacefully on top of him. 

“Happy,” she clarified, burrowing as close as she could get.

“Don’t be gross!” Carina called out. At eight years old she was the keeper of her siblings, and of her parents’ propriety, even when it wasn’t strictly necessary- everyone here was family and very used to their open affection. 

Hermione heard laughter from behind her where Lucius and Narcissa as well as Andromeda and Kingsley- who had patiently waited in the wings for Andromeda to be ready for a relationship, and who had finally married her two years ago- were lounging in more luxury than the simple blanket she and Draco had chosen afforded. She rolled her eyes to herself. As if they weren’t imminently grateful for her and Draco’s scorching chemistry. There wouldn’t be four children to dote on if they weren’t quite so in love. Hermione was certain she would have torn any other man to shreds by now, or pulled all of her own hair out in frustration. 

Scorpius used his sister’s distraction to sneak up on her and jump on her back. She squealed and Teddy quickly came to her aid. He’d taken Hermione’s request to act as her big brother very seriously. Nobody had ever had a greater champion than Carina Malfoy. 

“Leo!” Scorpius called out, and his little brother quickly entered the fray, leaping at Teddy. 

Hermione would have been concerned. It was far from a fair fight against the older children, but she knew that Teddy and Carina would be careful with them. On top of that fact was her absolute certainty that Scorpius and Leo were so frightfully cunning that they would probably find a way to best any opponent, despite the odds. 

Draco thought it absolutely hilarious. She knew about the bets he’d made with various friends over their House sorting. She couldn’t disagree that they’d both be placed in Slytherin despite her younger son’s namesake. It had been a point of contention between he and Harry- who was adamant that any child named ‘Leo’ belonged in Gryffindor- until Draco had reminded the other man that he was one of the most famous Gryffindors of all time and yet he had almost been placed into Slytherin. At which point Ginny had intervened to say that she could easily see their second son being sorted into Slytherin as well. Harry had promptly shut his mouth.

Harry and Ginny had married a year after they’d originally planned- much to Molly Weasley’s chagrin- but Hermione was certain their relationship was stronger for the delay. Her own relationship with Harry was stronger as a result of those tumultuous months during her courtship and early marriage to Draco. It was also very different from the one they’d shared at Hogwarts and just after the war. They loved each other deeply but they led separate lives. Though they’d become a lot closer again since Scorpius had been born just two months before Harry’s first son, James. And now Harry’s three children were the same ages as her youngest three. 

Her friendship with Ron, on the other hand, had never really recovered from their confrontation following the revelation of her relationship with Draco. Things were no longer hostile, they simply weren’t close. They were more like acquaintances with a lot of history. He had married Lavender, had two children, and retired from the Auror corps and bought into Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. He was a good man who led an honest life, it just didn’t align with hers. In retrospect it wasn’t a surprise, the two of them had never really been on parallel paths. They occasionally met for dinner, socialized at events hosted by mutual friends, and reminisced about old times; but they didn’t really understand each other. And that was okay. 

When she was pregnant with Scorpius, Harry and Draco had found common ground commiserating over their wives pregnancies. And, surprisingly, Harry had turned to Draco for advice. Hermione had been so pleased to see her oldest friend truly grow to respect her husband- up until that point Harry had merely tolerated Draco for Hermione and Ginny’s sake. And now the two of them were known to meet for drinks or to take part in a pick up quidditch game without her on a regular basis. 

Unlike with Carina, they went through her entire second pregnancy without naming the baby. Once they’d found out it was a boy the only name Draco had wanted was Scorpius, and it was the one name Hermione had flatly refused to consider. They were at a complete stalemate until his birth. And then, once he was born and Andromeda had placed him on her chest, she’d taken one look at him and just known that ‘Scorpius’ was his name, regardless of how she’d previously felt about it. Draco had been gracious enough to keep his gloating- mostly- out of her earshot.

And then, because the universe liked to toy with them, one day before Scorpius’ second birthday a baby whom Hermione had been determined to call Leo since his conception made his way into the world sporting a head of honey-colored curls that looked like nothing so much as a mane. And this time Draco had conceded. 

Alcyone was their baby, born just a month after Leo’s second birthday. When she’d found out that they were having a girl she’d said- almost in passing- to Draco that she thought this should be their last. They had two of each, along with busy fulfilling lives running their foundation which had taken on something of a life of its own. And Draco was still technically in charge at Malfoy Enterprises, though he’d taken a step back after Leo’s birth. He couldn’t really ask for more, or so he told her, and the nature of their bond, which grew more intelligent with each passing year, really did make it impossible for him to lie to her, at least about something so significant, and so he had agreed. 

And there had been no more babies. Despite the fact that she had been heavily pregnant, or already had another newborn by the time all of her other children had been Alcyone’s age. She had told Draco she would trust the magic of their connection, and it seemed that it had respected their wishes. 

The little girl stirred on Draco’s chest and he rubbed her back soothingly. And Hermione suddenly felt bereft. They all- Draco and Lucius especially- treated her like she was their last chance with a little one, spoiled her excessively, which was really saying something, and just generally acted mournful about every milestone she reached. But Hermione hadn’t realized that she’d been feeling the same way until this moment. 

Oh, their magic was definitely laughing at her. 

“I don’t think I’m done” The confession just spilled out of her mouth.

“Hmmm?”

“I don’t think I’m done,” she repeated more clearly.

He finally turned his head in her direction and frowned. “Are you still hungry?” He asked, referring to their long-abandoned picnic.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I know what I said, but I don’t think I’m done having children.”

He was on his feet before she could blink, cradling their still-sleeping little girl to him as he strode over to his father. He dumped the toddler- albeit very carefully- onto his lap. Lucius automatically wrapped his arms around the girl, an indulgent smile on his face.

What Lucius lacked as a father he’d more than made up for as a grandfather. The look of pure adoration he’d given Carina the first time she was placed in his arms was one Hermione would remember forever. She had worried that he would treat the boys differently, but he loved them just the same. He often popped over to the glen to sit quietly and read in the castle. Whenever Hermione lost track of one of her children she knew she need only check the library and she’d find the missing child there curled up on their grandfather’s lap. He was so indulgent that when they kept the children Narcissa was forced to be the disciplinarian. Draco regarded it it all with an air of amused befuddlement.

Hermione was just grateful. Thankfully, her parents had come around after Carina’s birth. The idea of missing out on their grandchild’s life proved too much for them, even if they didn’t agree with many of their daughter’s choices. And they were still deeply uncomfortable with the magical world and with magical people, and so her family almost always went to visit them. So, as much as Hermione wanted her children to be comfortable with their muggle roots and happily took them into the muggle world, the fact was that they were witches and wizards. They belonged in the magical world and she was thankful that they had a support system, a family here. 

“Please watch my children, my wife and I have business to take care of.” Draco threw that request over his shoulder to the older couples. And then he was in front of her, scooping her into his arms. 

“Draco!” She screeched, “I didn’t mean right this minute!” He ignored her completely and marched them towards the castle.

“So gross,” she heard Carina commenting in the background.


	31. Outake

Outtake (Approximately Eight Months Post-Epilogue)

It was day four of the worst week of Draco's life. His youngest had been wrapped around him like Devil's Snare for at least the last two of those days. He couldn't actually remember the last time she'd allowed him to put her down.

For that matter, he didn't remember the last time he'd had a shirt on- he was fairly sure he'd given up on them sometime in the middle of day one when he realized they were only going to continue to get soiled and was now only wearing a pair of light linen trousers that were surely in desperate need of laundering. He did know that he hadn't had the opportunity to properly bathe for the entirety of this ordeal thus far. The man he'd been before he'd had children would be appalled.

Effie had been sent to the Manor where she was probably bored out of her mind and pestering the other elves for something to do. She was used to having her own family of six to care for and would almost certainly find a way to make them subtly pay for the indignity of being sent away for months after this was over. But while most wizarding diseases had no effect on elves, dragon pox was actually more dangerous for them than it was for humans. So, the moment Hermione had discovered a telltale green spot on her arm she'd given their faithful elf an airtight order to go to Wiltshire and not return until called by herself or Draco.

They'd been preparing to send the children to their grandparents as well when they, almost simultaneously, all began to exhibit symptoms. So, they'd battened down the hatches and settled in for the duration. Which meant that a pregnant Hermione and the four kids hunkered down in the master bed and he was left to play nursemaid. That had been eighty two hours ago.

Despite being the only one not to exhibit any symptoms, Draco was no longer convinced he was going to make it out of this alive.

If it had just been Carina, Alcyone and Hermione, he was sure things would have been fine. Carina, while normally somewhat of a drama queen like the grandmother she so resembled, was actually a very good patient. She just curled up on one side of their bed with the stuffed dragon Teddy had given her at birth and a stack of books. At nearly nine she was already vain enough to ask for his help regularly applying the potion that would keep the pox from permanently maring her fair skin, and in keeping her curly hair neatly plaited. But those weren't exactly the kind of requests he begrudged. He was actually relishing a bit in fussing over her, she was quickly getting too old to regularly allow for that kind of attention from her parents.

And his sweet Alcyone. All she seemed to want was him, to cling to him and be able to hear the sound of his heart beating beneath her ear. True, it had gotten rather tiring, having a feverish little body wrapped around him for so long, but it wasn't a comfort he was going to deny her. She had also quietly requested: "wings please, Daddy," while looking up at him with her mother's brown eyes, about twenty-four hours ago, which was no problem. He could maintain his transformation effortlessly these days, but he was so tired he kept forgetting about his damnable wings and bumping into things with them. Last time he'd been so startled he'd stubbed his toe and it had bloody well hurt! Still, that was fine, it had made his little girl giggle.

Then there was Hermione, who steadfastly refused to ask for anything at all. He was fully convinced that: "I'm fine, Draco," were the most maddening words in the English language. He could tell through their bond if she was suddenly in pain or something truly alarming, but despite how familiar he was with her emotions, he still couldn't read her mind.

He'd stupidly taught her occlumency and she'd kill him (possibly literally) if she felt him trying to sneak into her mind. So, he needed her to tell him if she prefered soup, or a sandwich, or both for lunch. Or about any more of several dozen choices he'd been forced to make for her over the past days. But she was stubborn. She just kept telling him to take care of the kids and she was fine with whatever he could manage. It was all he could do not to growl at her that of course he was going to take care of their children, but he would appreciate it if she would allow him to dote on his pregnant wife too.

But he refused to snap at her. He reserved that for his nightly floo calls with Potter and his father. The former, whose spawn had given his family this infernal illness and, for that reason, Draco thought, fully deserved to share in the suffering. The latter just found this all a little too amusing for Draco's liking, but whom he was required to call with an update once a day or risk his mother coming to Scotland to check on them herself.

But it was his sons who were going to send him round the bend with their award worthy dramatics. The moment he had started feeling poorly Scorpius had climbed into his mother's arms and hadn't emerged since. Presently, he had his face smashed against her chest, fast asleep. Draco wasn't really sure how he could breathe like that, but he wasn't saying a thing about it. This was the only respite he'd had in hours from the constant whining the boy had been doing since he'd gotten sick.

And they were nonsensical, absurd complaints. Last time Scorpius had called for him it was to tell him that his socks felt too tight. He'd just stared at the kid at an absolute loss until Hermione quietly suggested that he simply remove them. Scorpius had positively beamed at her like she'd just hung the moon and the stars (and Draco was fairly sure his oldest son could be easily convinced that Hermione was, actually, capable of such a feat) and then sent Draco an absolutely scathing look over his shoulder.

"He's just like you," Hermione had snickered, carding her fingers through his hair, which was, as a matter of fact, just like Draco's. But he still hadn't appreciated the sentiment one bit. And it wasn't that he couldn't handle the behavior, he was just annoyed that the boy was being so unreasonable. It was disturbingly un-Malfoy-esqe.

However, he might have preferred that to the way Leo had chosen to behave. He'd camped out at the feet of his mother and siblings, covered himself in his ratty baby blanket, stuck his thumb in his mouth (a habit Draco abhorred) and resolutely refused to say anything, at least anything intelligible. He was four years old and fully capable of expressing his needs in a coherent manner, he just wouldn't.

But that didn't mean he was quiet. He whimpered, he moaned, and for at least five minutes two hours ago while Hermione was in the bathroom, he had actually wailed until Carina crawled down the bed and wrapped herself around him. And his second to youngest child had just stared at him accusingly with that mane of golden curls plastered to his face, like Draco was supposed to have known that Leo had wanted his big sister and he had been keeping her from him intentionally.

And if all of that wasn't enough, the lack of physical intimacy was definitely starting to get to him. It had been eighty-three hours since he'd so much as gotten to kiss his wife. Which was his eldest son's fault. He'd glared at Draco every time he'd tried to get near Hermione and she'd eventually told him to stop because he was "upsetting Scorpius." Well, he was upset too! Didn't she realize he had rights! Husbandly rights that were being denied him! And because of the fruit of his loins, nonetheless. How was that for irony?

He was just happy the new baby was going to be a girl. There was absolutely no room for more Malfoy men in this house. And what had he been thinking, wanting a quidditch team? They were absolutely done after this one. And if they needed a quidditch team they'd just borrow Teddy and one of the Potter boys who were both decent fliers (not that he would admit that out loud under pain of death) or some other kid who could be sent home at the end of the day. Yes, muggle contraceptives seem like a brilliant plan right about now, that is, if he even remembered how to make love to his wife after all of this was over.

"Merlin, Malfoy but you're having an epic sulk," Hermione called from the bed.

He looked up in alarm. She only called him 'Malfoy' anymore when she was teasing, or very, very angry.

But he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that she was smirking. She held out the arm that she wasn't using to cradle Scorpius in his direction.

"Come here." She was pale, covered in green spots, her hair was unwashed and carelessly piled on top of her head, and she was bloated and obviously uncomfortable as a combined result of being in the sixth month of her pregnancy, and her illness. But he didn't see any of that, not really. He was as drawn to her as ever.

Without even really thinking about it he stood up from the armchair where he'd been lounging while he waited for another request from a member of his sick family, and made his way over to her. He carefully climbed onto the bed. Alcyone smacked her lips and rubbed her cheek against his chest, but didn't protest his movements. Leo watched him warily but didn't make a sound and, thankfully, Scorpius didn't wake. So, Draco was able to cuddle both his first born son and Hermione against his side while Alcyone still rested on his chest without a struggle.

Finally.

Hermione reached up and caressed his cheek. "Are you feeling neglected my poor love?" She crooned, Carina snorted and raised the book she was holding to cover her face, presumably to block out any further parental sappiness. Draco couldn't bring himself to care.

"I'm fine," he said with as much dignity as he could muster.

She laughed at him and craned her neck to give him a light kiss. "I love you."

Draco found himself sighing with relief. Because while he generally thought that the muggle belief that uttering a simple phrase could make everything "magically" better was utter rubbish, that one actually did.

"I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's just a fun little outtake for you to celebrate this story surpassing 1,000 followers on fanfic.net. I wrote a bonus chapter for each of my other stories once they made that milestone, and I didn't think you guys should be left out just because this story was marked complete. Let me tell, you I've missed our moody, dramatic, veela Draco, so I might even write more outtakes/future takes at some point. However, the story remains complete, if I decide to write a true sequel it will be posted separately. Beta love to Weestarmeggie who is the best! Thank you guys so much for reading!


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